


Finders are not always Keepers

by SheyRicci



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam never thought his brother would just walk away from him and if he'd had any idea how hard it would be to locate him afterwards, he never would have let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam drove in silence. Three days ago, he'd had yet another argument with his brother. He'd had enough of close quarters, tense situations, Dean's bossiness and his unwillingness to give Sam some slack. He'd been the one to mouth off that if Dean didn't like the attitude Sam was currently presenting, then Dean could just go away. To his surprise, Dean had waved good-bye, tossed his bag at his feet, jumped into the Impala and driven away. He hadn't quite known what to make of that but decided he'd give it a few days before addressing it.

Sam had remained in the same town they'd been in when they'd split up. He was a little thrown that Dean had left town, had left him, and not attempted to contact him. He'd had the time to think about how he felt about that during the drive to track his brother down and he'd come to the conclusion he didn't like it at all.

He'd expected to hear from Dean, as he was the one who always caved and reached out first. Had expected a phone call, even a text with Dean acting like nothing had happened, but he'd received…..nothing. He'd been the one to try calling his brother, but every call went directly to voicemail. He'd gone through the expected range of emotions: annoyance, irritation, anger and finally concern. He wasn't even sure Dean wanted to see him but that no longer mattered, he was going to find his wayward brother whether he wanted to be found or not.

Sam pulled into the parking lot of the motel where the last GPS signal from his brother's cell phone had transmitted. He shut the motor of the stolen car down, and took a visual inventory of the motels parking lot. It wasn't hard to do, the motel was one story and all doors faced the parking lot which meant there was no parking around back. No Impala. Sam climbed from the car and entered the small office.

"Whassup?" was his greeting from a skinny, sky blue mo-hawk haired kid with gauged ear lobes the size of quarters.

"Hi, I'm looking for….." he couldn't speak another word. The kid had piercings everywhere. Lip, chin, nose, eyebrow, every inch of both ears. The kid jingled and jangled and chimed with every movement.

"Heeyaayee dude, cool." he whistled. "Totally cut that do into a mullet! Or sa-ayy, shave the sides, leave the top short and pull the back into a pigtail…..high five!" he held his palm up. "Like dude, totally leaving me hanging here!"

Pigtail? Who the hell called a ponytail a pigtail these days? Three-year old girls wore pigtails and weren't they usually braids? His hair was way too short braid. He shook his head, so not the time to analyze hair styles.

"I'm looking for this man." he held out a picture of his brother. "Drives a classic '67 Impala."

"Oh yeah Dean…wait…who are you? You the fuzz? Cause I don't wanna go getting that cool dude in trouble, not saying I've seen him, mighta though…..cool ass car, you ask me, course you ain't, cause if you were…."

"He's my brother." Sam interrupted. "You've seen him then?"

"Heeeeaaaavvvyyyy! You're joking me, right? You're Sammy? Don't be looking like no little brother I've ever seen." he held a hand out to Sam. Every finger, thumbs included sported more than one ring, his nails were painted black and designs were tattooed onto pierced knuckles. OW! "We hung out last night, said he usually played pool with his little brother Sammy. Name's Pin Cushion."

No kidding, Sam rolled his eyes and fought for patience. "Younger, I'm his younger brother." Sam shook his hand, then wiped his palm on the leg of his jeans. "So, he's checked in?"

"Room 23." nose ring jangled from the vigorous nodding of head. "Your brother is cool for an old dude. Chicks really dig him. I mean, the dude can pick up chicks like…"

"So, aah, Room 23, thanks." odd that the car wasn't in the lot, but then, it was probably in the lot of whatever bar he had staggered out of. Of all things Dean could be stupid about, driving while intoxicated wasn't one of them.

"Oh he ain't there." Pin Cushion called as Sam reached the door. "Be wasting your time dude to go knocking on the door."

"Any idea when he might be back?"

"Hard to say, seeing as he checked out and all." the kid shrugged. "Hey, you got the same way with women he does? Maybe we can hook-up when I'm off and head over to Harkens."

"When did he check out?" gritted teeth made his jaw ache. Why the hell hadn't the kid said so in the first place?

"This morning." he grinned. "We were over to Harkens last night, best bar in town, if you know what I mean. Your brother sure can play a mean game of pool, ain't too bad at darts neither. Guess he got lucky with Cupcake, seeing as she was in the car when he checked out. Come to think of it, guess he did leave the bar with her last night."

"You're saying he brought a girl back to his room?" please god, let him find him at this girls house. He wasn't in the mood to go chasing his brother all over the county. "Checked out this morning and went home with her?"

"That'd be my guess, yeah…lucky dude too, she's smoking hot!" he kissed his fingers and blew their tips. "Get my meaning, heh? She's so outta my league but Dean hooked-up."

"Where can I find, erhm, Cupcake?"

"Can't miss her place; take the second street over at the foot of the hill, bam, right there." he leaned across the counter. "Hey, bring him back this way, will ya? Kinda wish he'd stick around, you know? He's pretty awesome to hang out with."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam sat in the car at the foot of the hill, on the second street over and stared at the house he couldn't miss. It was pink. Barbie's Dream House. One car was in the driveway; a pink Beetle. He supposed he should be thankful the pink car wasn't the Impala but he rather wished it were, for that meant he had found it.

He got out of the car and climbed the steps to the front porch where he rang the pink doorbell. He took in the contents of the porch while he waited for the door to open. Everything was pink and frilly and lacey and delicate: curtains, cushions, carpets, pillows, wind chimes, flowers and decorations. How did one go about getting everything in the same exact shade of pink? And who left their porch furniture out all winter? Least now he understood the name Cupcake. Everything reminded him off frothy pink icing. Soo not his brother's usual type.

"Hi ya, how can I help you?"

Sam blinked, his mouth worked, but no words came out. A full life-sized Barbie doll stood in front of him. She wore pink panties, a pink bra covered with a pink lace crop top and pink Uggs. Freaking 20 degrees outside and the blonde, blue-eyed Barbie stood all but naked in the open doorway.

"Aahh." he licked his lips. Dean had never really been into blondes but hey, dressed like she was with a body like that, who the hell knew she had hair? "I'm…." he cleared his throat. "Brother. My brother, I'm looking for…" he just bet any whipped cream she favored would be pink.

"Awwww. Are you Sammy?" she might as well have been talking to a puppy. "Aren't you just the cutest thing! All floppy hair and big eyes." she reached out and tweaked his chin, pink nails tickling him under the jaw. "Such a good boy, looking for your big brother!"

"Older." did she just pat him on the head? "My older brother." most definitely patted and now she was petting his hair. "Um….I….he…here?" damn, with the way she was palming his chin, it was hard to concentrate, he couldn't think. Forming a complete sentence wasn't possible while she was scratching him behind the ear. WHAT? He shook his head and took a step back. "Deee…." he coughed and tried again. "De…an?"

"Oh sugar…. Mmmmm, Dean, yyeessss….one night with him….Aah." she waved him into the house. "Come on in. No one should be left outside on a night like tonight. Get you a warm blanket, find you something to eat and let you sit by the fire."

"Dean, my brother, is he here?"

"Oh no, he left after supper. I let him out to go to Harkens, only place to be in this town, he must have liked it because he didn't come back." she gave a pretty pout. "I certainly wasn't ready for him to leave….you find him, you bring him back, you hear? I would have been willing to keep him, you know?" she winked and he noticed the pink bows in her hair. "And you too, sugar."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam walked around the parking lot of the 'best bar in town', the 'only place to be', with his lip curled in disgust. It was a hole; literally, he could smell it from the distance of the parking lot. Definitely Dean's kind of place and one Sam would never normally go in unless he was hustling pool with Dean.

It was going on eight o'clock, rather early for a bar to be open, but the neon sign in the window flashed, 'open' and he could hear music coming from the door when it opened and three men came out. The Impala wasn't in the parking lot but that didn't mean Dean wasn't in the bar. Checking his pocket for his knife and the waist of his jeans for his gun, he sucked in a deep breath and walked over to the door.

The interior of the bar was not at all was Sam was expecting. It was well-lit, spacious, clean and modern. There was a dance floor, juke box, several pool tables, video games, pinball machines, dart boards, a small stage for karaoke, and tables for eating with two waitresses waiting tables. A large man stood behind the bar, towel slung over his shoulder as he turned to greet Sam.

"Hey, there, howdy!" he wiped peanut shells off the bar where Sam slid onto a stool. "What can I get you?"

"Beer, domestic, thanks."

"So, new around here or just passing through? You stick around you'll have a good night. Once the ladies get a look at you….." he whistled. "Kinda early for the regular crowd to be in….wait 'til ten or so, it'll pick up."

"No, I'm actually looking for someone." he pulled the picture from his jacket pocket. "Have you seen…..?"

"Hey now, that's Dean! What a dude!" he popped the lid off a bottle of Bud and set it in front of Sam. "Yeah, he left last night with Cupcake. Came back earlier tonight, for an after dinner drink, he called it. Who are you?"

"His broth…"

"Sammy? You're Sammy?! Wow, he said you were big, but everyone says they know someone who is big. Name's Midget." he wiped his hand on the towel then held it out to Sam. "So, what brings you in here?"

Midget? Seriously? The man had several inches on Sam's 6'4 height!

"Trying to find my brother. Erm, Cupcake said…..I thought I'd find him here." finally, he added silently.

"Yeah, he was here. Left though."

"Of course he did." Sam sighed to himself. "Any idea where he went?"

"ER. Mooch was roughing up his ole lady again, Dean didn't like that, stepped in and got his hand cut open on a broken beer bottle. I told him not to get involved. That the person who ended up being hurt would be Mooch when Doris had enough of his mouth and went after him with whatever solid object she got her hands on first."

"ER?"

"Oh yeah, I'd already called Weeble, figured someone would need to bring Doris under control, so when he got here he took Dean on over to the ER. He needed stitches. Say, once you get him outta there, doubt they'll just let him go once they get a hold of him, bring him on back. Told him he ever wanted a job, there was one waiting here for him. Wouldn't mind keeping someone like him around."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam stood on the sidewalk, staring at the emergency room doors, trying to scrounge up the courage to step forward and go through them. The hospital was the smallest he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. A single story L-shaped building that in any other city other than this back-woods town would be considered a clinic.

He was tired; it had been a long frustrating evening. From the motel to Barbie's dream house to the best bar in town, to the freaking hospital. Good thing Dean was already at the hospital, 'cause when Sam got done with him, he was gonna need a doctor.

Taking a breath, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, he walked forward and stepped through the automatic doors of the ER.

"Hi, can I help you?" a girl behind a desk asked cheerfully. "Nice night out, huh? Has it started to snow yet?"

"Um, no…I believe…my brother…..was brought in…"

"Name?" she chirped. "Been a crazy night, what with the weather, lot of people falling on the ice or hurting their backs shoveling. You'd think in this day, people would save up and buy a snow blower, you know? But noooo….so, his name?" she looked up expectantly and let her eyes linger in appreciation, causing Sam to blush. Now was so not the time to flirt "Hey, did you come in off the interstate or Route 24? Just wondering if the bridge is blocked."

"Dean." Sam gave her an impatient smile. "His name is Dean."

"Ooooooh, yes, Deeeeeaaaannnn." she cooed. "Yum, we all remember him….brothers, huh? Couldn't miss him, we don't get that many men as hot as he is in here. Glitter was so thrilled she was his nurse than found out it was just a hand injury and there'd be no need to get him outta his clothes." she looked him up and down, back up and down to his throat. He shifted, uncomfortable under her gaze. "So, what brings you here again?"

"My brother." just a hand injury? JUST! There was nothing, 'just' about any injury that landed either of them in the ER. "The hot one you all wanted to undress?"

"What about him?" she cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of her face. "Wow! Warm in here, don't you think?"

"I came to pick him up."

"Really?" her face fell in disappointment. "Does that mean he won't be staying? Hey!" she perked up. "Maybe with the weather you two with have to stay in town a couple of days. We could all go skiing! Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Uh…my brother…he….."

"Cookie!" a large, older woman came out of a room behind the counter and came to stand behind 'Cookie.' "Girl, what are you nattering on about? The phones are ringing off the hook, paperwork is piling up, and the patients in the waiting room aren't…" she noticed Sam lounging on the counter. "And you would be who?"

Sam blinked. "Aah, I was told…my brother…was brought in"

"Oh." she reached for a file. "Who's next Cookie?"

"So, uh, my bro….." he began only to fall silent when he realized she was ignoring him. Hell, she'd dismissed him. "I….hey, excuse me! I'm still talking to you."

"Did we call you?" she demanded. "We call family members, I don't recall calling you."

"What? How would you know…? No…but….." Sam was beginning to get irritated. "I was told he was brought in a couple of hours ago."

"We would have called you. If we didn't call you, he's not here." she sniffed. "We need to move on, can't wait around all night while Cookie ogles you, now can we? We have a lot more patients to see. Cookie, call Mrs. Jackson…"

Sam leaned across the counter and splatted one large hand, palm down, across the file Ms. Battle Axe was attempting to pick up. He was beyond his initial observation that Cookie was cute and perhaps an easy pick up. He wanted to reach across the counter, circle his hands around the closest neck and choke the living daylights out of whoever's head was attached.

"Where is he?" Sam managed to get out, still able to maintain some semblance of calm. How he was able to do so was a testament to his self-control. "Hey!"

"You're still here?" Ms. Battle Axe was surprised, not scared, to find him still there. "Where's who?"

"My brother. His name is Dean." veins throbbed in his neck. "Cookie said Glitter was his nurse."

"Humph. That one? Mr. Charm? He went and got all the girls in a dither."

"They told me at Harkens I should come pick him up….."

Cookie nodded. "Uh-huh. We don't just release people. Safety reasons, see….."

"Cookie, stifle it girl! And you! You be gone. There's no need for you to be still be here. That slimy weasel is out of this hen-house."

"He left?" he clenched his fists to keep himself from grabbing hold of her and bouncing her head off the wall. "Where did he go?" his tone finally alerted Ms. Battle Axe to the fact he was getting annoyed and she gave him an icy glare.

"Well, I would assume jail." Ms. Battle Axe narrowed her eyes and gave him a look as though she thought him not quite right. "Where else would you expect the deputy to take him?"

"Jail?" Sam repeated startled. "Did you say jail?"

"You should have been called." Ms. Battle Axe shot daggers at him. "It is no longer our concern. NEXT!"

"Weeble took him out of here. Jail is where he would be taken." Cookies explained eagerly. "Isn't that just sexy?" she said dreamily. "Mmmmmmmm."

"Girl, knock that off." a file rapped her over the head. "You get yourself into more trouble with those fantasies of yours. I said NEXT!"

"He was arrested? Why?" Sam gurgled with rage. He was going to hit someone or break a wall with his fist but something was going to get punched.

"He started the fight." Cookie leaned closer to him, voice a mere whisper, as if she was telling him a secret and didn't want Ms. Battle Axe to overhear. "Heard he won it too."

"What fight?"

"Theeee baaaaar fiiiiiight." drawing the words out, she sat back, perplexed. "Bummer, too bad you aren't as smart as you are cute." she huffed. "Guess your brother got the brains and the brawn."

"I don't know anything about a fight, in a bar or anywhere else." deep breaths, he coached himself, in through your nose, out through your mouth. "They told me at Harkens he came in because he broke up a fight and cut his hand on a broken beer bottle. I assume he was conscious when he got here for treatment?"

"Well, of course he was." Ms. Battle Axe rejoined the conversation. "We are a decent hospital sir; we treat all patients with the best care possible. We do not discriminate."

"Then why wouldn't he have called me himself?"

She gave him a look that clearly told him somewhere along the conversation, it had been decided he was stupid and her tone became patronizing. "How would you expect him to do that with his hands cuffed to the bed?"

"WHAT?!" he needed a mirror because he was quite sure his face was red and steam was smoking from his ears.

"Hey now, see here, no need to raise your voice. I'll have to call security." she chided. "I said NEXT! Mrs. Jackson that would be you!"

"Didn't he come in here on his own?"

"Well, of course he did. Weeble just gave him a ride, brought him because his hand was bleeding all over the place. Bled through the towel he had it wrapped up in. The Sheriff called and said Mooch was pressing charges. That's when Weeble cuffed him to the bed. Once the doctor stitched him up and declared him fit to leave, off they went." Cookie was all smiles and suggestive looks again. "How hot is a man in restraints?"

Weeble? Mooch? What the hell kind of hick town was he in? Not to mention Glitter and Cookie and who could forget Pin Cushion, Cupcake Barbie and Midget, the 6'8, 350 pound bar tender at Harkens, the best damn 'dive' in town.

"Sir, you need to leave now." Ms. Battle Axe said firmly. "You are causing havoc here in my ER. Mrs. Jackson can't pick her jaw up off the floor or remove her eyes from your person. Now, out with you." she waved her hands in a shooing motion, as if she were flapping an apron to move along a recalcitrant pig. If she clapped her hands, Sam was going to blow. "Be on your way. Your brother is no longer here so there is no need for you to remain."

"Where would they take him?" his voice was strangled, god he was choking.

The two women exchanged a glance. Sam saw pity and sorrow cross their features, then Ms. Battle Axe turned to him and spoke like he was mentally slow.

"The. Police. Arrested. him." she enunciated each word, clearly and slowly. "They-would-have-taken-him-to-jail." she drew an imaginary picture in the air of a square room and mimed opening a door, closing it and turning a key in a lock. "Jail is where people who are under arrest go. They are held in a cell until bailed out or have a trial."

"Where in this town is the jail?" great, he'd bitten through his tongue and now it was bleeding, the coppery taste making his stomach heave. He wondered if either woman knew how close they were to seeing a full-blown Sam Winchester meltdown.

"Cookie, give him directions, no need to waste your time drawing him a map." Ms. Battle Axe rolled her eyes. "If he can't find the jail on Main Street in a five street town, I doubt he'll be able to follow it."

"Don't mind her." Cookie whispered to Sam once the older woman had gone off to drag poor Mrs. Jackson back to the examine room. "We were kinda hoping the doctor would have said he'd have to stay, you know? Glitter wanted to keep him, least for a few days…what we wouldn't have given to keep him in bed." she ended on a breathless sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam left the hospital in a daze. The entire conversation had left him reeling. Okay, maybe the car would be easier to find. Dean was in jail and wouldn't be going anywhere until Sam arrived to bail him out. Might as well walk to the jail and look for the car along the way. It hadn't been at Harkens, so…..best place to search for it, would be…? The town was small, five streets indeed and on every freaking corner was a bar or beer joint so he chose the closet one and began his search.

The Impala might be Dean's car, or rather, they considered it Dean's but in truth, the car was just as much Sam's as it was Dean's. The difference being, Sam didn't hold inanimate objects in close affection like Dean did. Dean drove it, repaired it, babied it, kept it running, lived it in, hell, it was probably the only thing that he loved unconditionally.

Sam wanted it back in his possession for that very reason. Well, that and the fact the trunk contained an arsenal of weapons that consisted of expensive, illegal and one of a kind weapons, some of which were irreplaceable. He wondered where the knife was.

He'd taken to carrying his own set of keys to the car years ago, back when Dean had gone to hell and given him the car and if he were to admit it only to himself, he felt closest to his brother when he was missing him when he was in the car, so finding the car became his priority.

Sam walked the entire town, all five streets, twice. He passed Barbie's dream house a third time in the distant hope Dean would have returned for another night with Cupcake but found no sign of the Impala on any street, in any parking lot or on any driveway. Hopefully that meant wherever it was, it and Dean were together. For that to be true the car would need to be here at the jail and there was no sign of it. He wondered where, if there was one, the impound lot was.

So, that was the jail?

He looked at the two-story building on the corner of what he assumed was Main Street. The building looked like at one time it might have been a bank. Taking a deep breath that ended on a curse, he opened the door and stepped through.

He'd thought about the best way to present himself to the Sheriff as he walked the town in search of the car. He'd considered using his Federal Agent ID. It would serve as the best way to remove Dean from custody, but had the suspicion he was now known through-out the town and doubted anyone would believe he was a Fed. Not when everyone seemed to know him as 'Sammy, Dean's little brother'. Didn't matter no one had ever laid eyes upon him before.

Well, no doubt who Sam was staring at. The man sitting at the sole desk in the office was short and as round as he was tall. Sam could tell this with the man sitting. He couldn't be more than 5'6, tops. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. Sam hid a snicker, raising a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to quell his laughter.

"Evening sir, how may I help you?" Weeble asked politely, rising to his feet. "Getting cold out there, snow's coming."

"Uh, yeah, uhm, hi." he cast a quick glance about the room. No cell. "I'm here about my brother…"

"Who might that be? You staying at the motel or just passing through? I know everyone in this town, no one is missing a brother…oh say, hey now, might you be little Sammy?" he snapped his fingers and waddled around the desk to stand in front of Sam. "I just bet you are. Nice to meet you, folks hereabouts call me Weeble. Deputy Weeble."

This egg-shaped shrimp had cuffed Dean to a hospital bed? Not a chance in hell unless Dean had allowed it.

"Yeah, Sam, I'm Sam." he shook the man's hand. "They told me at the ER, Mooch had pressed charges and once they released him, you brought him here."

"Oh, that Mooch." Weeble shook his head with a chuckle. "Ole Doris would have set him straight, she always does, last time she knocked him out by slinging a pool ball wrapped up in a towel at his head. Seen way too many Steven Segal movies, she has."

"Yeah, so anyway, I'm a little confused." Sam shifted his weight uneasily. "Midget said Dean cut his hand on a broken beer bottle and was taken to the ER for stitches."

"You betcha." Weeble said cheerfully. "Nasty cut too, clear across the palm of his hand."

"So this Mooch pulled a broken beer bottle on my brother, hurt him with it badly enough he needed to go to the ER for stitches and he's the one arrested for assault?"

"What? Oh no. No, no, no, no, got it all wrong. Doris walloped your brother with her purse, gotta respect a man who's being attacked by a purse and doesn't fight back, right?"

"How did he hurt his hand?" was it possible to grind through ones teeth?

"Well, seeing as how he wouldn't defend himself, he got beaten down by Doris and she finally knocked him down. Musta been a broken bottle on the floor and when he landed on his ass, guessing his hand found that there broken bottle."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for patience and calm. "Was this the fight he supposedly broke up?"

"Fight? What fight? There wasn't any fight." Weeble drew himself up and huffed indignantly. "There's no fighting allowed at Harkens, you hear?"

"So, what do you call a woman attacking her husband with a makeshift slingshot?"

"Domestic dispute." Weeble rocked his weight.

"And a woman beating a man up with a purse?"

"Takes two people to fight. Can't call it a fight if punches aren't thrown."

"No one thought to intercede and remove Doris or relieve her of her weapon?"

Weeble looked at him aghast, an expression of horror crossing his face. "Confront Doris?" he gasped in dismay, five sausage fingers splaying over his heart. "Are you mad?"

"So, everyone just stood around and watched her attack my brother?" Sam sighed. He bet they would have done plenty had Dean raised his hand against the woman to defend himself and he doubted it would have been to aid his brother. "Why was she hitting him anyway?"

"Well now, it was only her purse you see. She didn't go after with him a pool stick or anything like that. She's been known to do that you know. She does love her Steven Segal movies…so, aah, guessing she didn't like your brother getting in her man's face. Wasn't any way Mooch would come out the victor in a fight with a man like your brother."

Sam held a hand up, halting Weeble in mid-rant. "I thought there was no fighting at Harkens?" he waited but Weeble just stared at him with a blank expression. "Why did Mooch press charges? Charges for what?"

"Well now, you see, that's the thing." Weeble said hesitatingly. "Your, eh, brother…..laid poor Mooch out."

"He did what?" migraine coming on. Sam rubbed wearily at his forehead. God, what a night this was turning out to be.

"Said if he can't beat the woman, he'd beat the man who let her get away with such behavior." Weeble brightened. Sam groaned, that right there was their father talking. How many times as a kid had Sam watched his father punch another man for the way his kids behaved?

Dean knew how to make a fist and throw a punch without injuring his hand so there was no need to fear he'd broken any fingers or knuckles.

"Where is he?" Sam wondered if it were possible to strangle oneself with unspoken words. It was certainly possible to restrict ones breathing when frustration clogged their throat. "Can I post bail?"

"You sure can." Weeble retreated behind his desk and picked up a file.

"Tonight?" it couldn't be this easy.

"Sure, long as the weather don't stop you."

"Pardon? The weather? Why would the weather be a factor?" he was going to need a drink, ok, maybe two. "Where do I post bail?" he rolled his head about, trying to ease the stiff neck tension had caused, making his shoulders ache.

"At the county court-house." he waved the folder. "Got everything you need, right here!" singing, Weeble the Wobbler who couldn't fall down was definitely warbling. "You'll need cash, mind you. Bail is probably $500.00 bucks, you'll need 10 percent." he gave Sam a look, seemed to consider whether or not to say something, then puffed up and said. "That would be $50.00, in case you…" he licked his lip when he saw Sam visibly struggle to remain still. "Sure, sure…..well, ok then."

"I have to go to the county house, post bail and then return here to get my brother?" he needed some aspirin and he was going to need the entire bottle of whiskey, two drinks wouldn't be nearly enough. "Can I see him before I go? And where is the county court-house anyway?"

"AAh, no." Weeble was now looking at him with sympathy. "See him, I mean. I'd let you, if I could, but I can't. It's not that I don't want to, mind you, but….."

"Who do I have to talk to in order to be allowed to see him?"

"Oh no. You misunderstand." Weeble waved his hand about the room. "I assumed you'd be able to see for yourself, we don't have any holding cells here. He was transferred to county lock up."

"When." Sam wasn't sure how he got the word out.

Weeble looked at the watch on his wrist, then up at the clock on the wall. "Sheriff left with him about two hours ago." he looked up at the wall clock again, "Come to think of it, he should have been back an hour ago."

"Where is county lock up?"

"Oh, first you gotta post bail at the county court-house. Then you go to county lock up to pick him up."

"They aren't in the same place?"

"Oh sure they are, just not the same building, same town though. You're in luck, both are open twenty-four hours, you won't have to wait until morning to get him out." Weeble was scribbling as he spoke. "Sure wish I could have kept him here for the night. He was knowledgeable about weapons. I'm on duty all night, would have given me someone to talk to. Bring him on back this way should the storm force you into the motel." he held out the paper he'd written on to Sam. "Here are directions from here to the court-house, then from the court-house to lock up."

"Do you have an impound lot here? I'm looking for my brother's car."

"Sorry, don't know anything about it."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry, say that again?" Sam stared at the little old lady who was damn lucky she was safely behind a wire cage that he couldn't reach around or through. "What the hell do you mean, he isn't here?"

"Now see here, young man, there is no need to use such foul language." she scolded. "Manners are sorely lacking among today's youth."

"I just left Somersville, they told me the Sheriff left nearly three hours ago to bring him here." his jaw ached so badly from gritting his teeth from so long, he was sure he was going to need to see a dentist. His whole body was tense from stress and frustration. When he finally got his hands on the son-of-a-bitch he referred to as brother, he was going to kick his freaking ass. "It's a twenty-minute drive."

"And?" she prompted.

"And I want to know where he is!"

"How would I know?" she puffed. "See here, young man…I don't appreciate being addressed with that tone…."

Oh, Grama was going down.

"Can I help you?" a man appeared in the booth behind Grama-with-an-attitude.

"I'm looking for my brother. He was arrested in Somersville and here by the Sheriff."

"Would that be Dean?"

"Yeah." he was no longer in any mood to be polite or patient. He wanted his brother, their car and this county in their rearview mirror.

"Yeah, well, you'll have to look elsewhere for him." the man said. "The Sheriff was forced off the road two miles out-of-town." the look he leveled on Sam was full of suspicion and doubt. "And only the Sheriff made it to town."

"You're saying he was in an accident?" his mind was determined to play with him. He should be focused on any possible injuries his brother may have suffered in a car accident and all he could think about was Rumpelstiltskin.

How Rumpel had become so angry he'd pounded the ground with his foot so violently, he'd buried himself up to his chest. He now understood how rage could drive a person to such an action. "God, please, tell me you didn't have him taken to Memorial County Hospital in Somersville." he groaned. He couldn't go back there, he wouldn't, not tonight, Dean would just have to stay there until morning.

"I'm saying the Sheriff, for whatever reason, lost control of his car, drove off the road and when he came too, your brother was gone."

"Gone? As in….gone?" Sam's eyes grew wide. "How could he be gone?" chances were Dean had picked the lock on the cuffs while the Sheriff had been unconscious and gotten out of the car. Sam wasn't worried the Sheriff was injured, Dean wouldn't have done the man any harm, nor would he have left an injured man in a wrecked car without first calling for help and reporting the accident.

"Good question, seeing as he was cuffed with his hands behind his back and chained to the backseat of a police car."

"Cuffed? Chained?" he repeated. "For What? He didn't do anything!" okay, so Dean hadn't escaped the car on his own. Not even a Winchester could pick the lock on handcuffs with their wrists locked together behind their backs.

"He was under arrest and in police custody. It's standard procedure when transporting a prisoner."

"Where's the Sheriff?" Sam demanded. His anger was out and had taken control. He wanted his brother and he was sick and tired of being one step behind, arriving late and being thwarted by every crazy ass person in this messed up county.

"Being looked at by Doc Myers." the man frowned in disapproval. "Maybe you should take a walk and calm down. Come back when you have settled yourself some."

"I don't need to settle myself down. I am calm!" the pitch in his voice and the force he spit the words out belied his statement. "Where is the Sheriff?"

"Now see here, young man." Grama was on her feet and all 4'2 of her was in Sam's face. Somehow, she'd come out of the caged booth and was standing in front of him. "You do not come in here and talk like that." her finger waggled. Even with her hand raised, her fingertips reached his chest. "You do not come in here and treat us with such disrespect."

"YOU LOST MY BROTHER!" Sam roared, picking Grama up by her shoulders, her little feet kicking until he set her down several feet away from him. No one was going to get in his face, not when his brother was missing. "You had him in cuffs and you LOST him! I want an explanation how that happened and what is being done about it? Was he hurt? How bad was the car damaged? What did the Sheriff see or hear? Someone took my brother from that car and someone had better already be doing something about it! Who's looking for him? He sure as hell didn't escape on his own!"

"Here now, pipe down!" a man came into the room holding a blue ice pack to his forehead. "I'm Sheriff Dobbin, you must be Sammy." he held his hand out, letting it drop when Sam refused to shake it. "Damn me, you ain't so little." he looked Sam up and down, taking note of the fury that twisted his features. "Now, no need to get all worked up. Dean never said you had such an unsettled disposition. Claimed you were some gentle giant and questioned how you came to be born into the family being so mild-mannered and all."

"Where is my brother?" each word might as well have been a punch. Grama wisely retreated to the protection of her caged booth where she continued to glare at him.

"I don't rightly know." the Sheriff put a desk between him and the irate giant. "We have men out looking for him."

"I want to see the car."

"Why?"

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF HE WAS HURT!" Sam exclaimed. "Someone had to have helped him get out of that car!"

"Someone did and I can assure you, we will find whoever it was."

"When?"

"I was forced off the road son, that accident was staged. Your brother didn't escape, he was rescued."

"RESCUED?!" he barked out a harsh laugh. There was no one who knew who they were that would attempt a rescue. "By who? He doesn't know anyone in this godforsaken town."

"We thought by you." the Sheriff said. "Now be on your way and let us do our jobs. Leave your cell number and we'll contact you when we have some information for you."

***000***

Sam sat in his stolen car in the parking lot of the county court-house. He was beyond the ability to cope. He couldn't think or speak or move. All he could do was sit and stare at the steering wheel. He couldn't even pull himself together enough to start the car and turn the heat on.

He'd never had such a night in his entire life. He'd been amused, annoyed, irritated, angry, scared and frustrated. Now he was feeling hopeless and lost. He'd come to town with plans to retrieve his brother and head back to the cabin in Montana where they could lie low for a couple of days and regroup.

He hadn't expected any of the obstacles that had been in his way. Whacked out motel clerks and hot babes in snow boots he could easily handle. Bartenders and pesky nurses and stupid deputies were routine in his life. Rescues from unknown persons who planned a detailed jailbreak were not something he was emotionally equipped to deal with.

What the hell was he supposed to do next? How was he supposed to find his brother now? He thumped his head against the steering wheel. All he could think to do, was examine the wrecked police car and visit the site of the accident. It wasn't much, but it was a start and he needed to do something.

He gave himself a shake and reached a hand into his pocket for the car keys. His fingers curled around his cell phone and he pulled it out along with the keys. The message light was blinking and when he checked the display, he had three missed calls, all from Dean and one voicemail.

He laughed, maniacal, uncontrollable laughter. He couldn't stop. All this time spent chasing his brother from one location to the next, dealing with the oddball citizens of the most fucked up county he'd ever set foot in and all along, all he'd had to do was check his own voicemail.

Turning the engine over, he dialed voicemail and listened to the message.


	7. Chapter 7

"Suzette?" Sam called softly. He climbed from the car and shut the door. The street was deserted, the night quiet, no passing cars, no pedestrians, not even a dog barking in the distance. Not much of a surprise, since it was now after three in the morning. He'd stopped a block away from the street corner where the girl who had left him a message from his brother's phone had instructed him to meet her and approached the intersection with gun drawn.

This was Sam's life, so he hadn't expected the message to have been from Dean. Had no reason to hope that the voicemail would have revealed his brother's happy alcohol-slurred voice telling him to pop on over to wherever and pick him up. That his search on the longest night of his life would finally be over and not only would he have his brother back, but he'd be able to lay hands on that stupid car whose disappearance was giving him an ulcer.

"Sam." she appeared out of the shadows and gloom. "bout time."

"Where is he?" he was in no mood for an attitude from anyone and he wasn't about to play games. All she had left on the voicemail had been a phone number and when he'd called it, she'd answered with instructions to meet her.

"I'm here to take you to him."

"Just tell me where the hell he is." it crossed his mind to ask her how she recognized him but the thought was fleeting as anger and disappointment overcame his logic. "I'm so tired of this fucking game."

"Aaah, what game?" she questioned. "Sam, look, we don't have time for this." she said impatiently. "I didn't spring him from the Sheriff's car….I don't know who did…..but I assume they are looking for him."

"Do you know where he is or not?" he held his hand out. "Give me his phone." he needed some kind of proof that she had seen Dean

She handed it over. "I do."

"Then why are you here and he isn't?"

"I couldn't very well carry him." she shot back.

"Why would….." his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Wait, are you saying he's hurt?!"

"I didn't have a lot of choices Sam." she explained. "I don't know who took him and I couldn't just trust that you were you and not them and lead you if you weren't you and were them to where he was."

He shook his head, not sure he'd followed what she'd said. "And now? You know who I am? How?"

"I'll take you to him."

He couldn't speak, he tried, but his tongue was tied in a knot. He held one hand up, silently asking her to give him a moment. He couldn't do this, the events of the past several hours had already ripped his fragile hold on reality beyond his ability to reclaim. He could not handle having his brother dangled in front of him yet again only to be yanked away.

"You really have him?" he finally got out. "Because if you don't, you're wasting my time. I have a car to go see, another one to find, an accident site to investigate and an idiot in Somersville to beat the truth out of."

"Mooch didn't cause the accident." she started walking. "I can take you to your brother, come on, where's your car?"

"I was talking about Doris." he stopped. "You know about all that? About Somersville?" he continued to walk with her, his mind racing to catch up and sort out everything he was hearing. "How?"

She nodded. "I was on my way to stop Dobbin from taking him to county. I came upon the accident, Dobbin was slumped over the wheel. Dean was gone."

"Who took him?"

"I don't know."

"Who are you?"

"Drive." she opened the passenger door and got in. "Sam, come on, it's been over three hours since he was taken from Dobbin. I don't know if he got away from whoever got him out of the car or if they let him go, but we need to get back to him."

"How did you find him?" he pulled out. He knew he should insist on having all his questions answered, but he could only focus on one thing at a time, and unanswered past questions were forgotten.

"The cuffs were cut from the chain that told me someone had taken him from the car…."

"How long ago did you find him?"

"Maybe thirty minutes. I was able to convince him to get into the car with me but he didn't want anything to do with me. He wouldn't confide in me or answer any of my questions. Once we got to the house, he wouldn't let me near him to see how badly he was hurt. I took the cuffs off and he passed out so I took his phone and called you, left you a message…"

Had Sam been thinking clearly, had he not been so angry, had he been able to pay attention, he might have realized she never actually answered any of his questions. He might have thought to demand actual answers: Why had she followed the Sheriff to stop him from taking Dean to county? How did she plan to do that? Why didn't she want Dean in county lock up? How did she know what had happened in Somersville? How did she know who Dean was? She had taken his phone and called Sam but had said he'd been unconscious, so how had she known to call Sam? And why was he unconscious? How badly was he hurt?

None of those questions entered his mind as he focused on who had taken Dean from the police car and why. Where had Dean been for three hours until Suzie found him? Whoever it was had made a serious mistake. It wasn't easy to piss Sam Winchester off, but once you did, you'd better pray he didn't find you, because when he did and if his brother hadn't been able to talk him down, your life was forfeit.

"So, you don't know where his car is?" was what came out of his mouth.

"No, sorry. Turn left." she directed.

"You had better not be lying to me." Sam said calmly. "And he had better be where you say he is or lady, you will regret ever calling me."

"I know you don't know me and you have no reason to trust me, but I would never do anything to hurt either of you."

"Because?" Sam prodded. "Can I assume you know who we are?"

"Slow down, there's a dirt driveway just ahead on the left….there…."

Dirt path was more like it, certainly wouldn't be mistaken for a driveway by any normal Joe just driving down the road. Sam pulled to a stop at the rear of a small house. It was isolated, set back from the road with no near neighbors.

"He's inside?" he questioned doubtfully. "Girl, I swear, if you're playing me…."

"I'm not, you'll see…..come on. I left him in the bedroom." she unlocked the back door and led the way into the kitchen where she turned the lights on and pointed down a hallway. "Second door on the left."

Sam took the time to survey the layout of the house: one story rancher, two entry doors, two bedrooms, bathroom and a cellar. Not many places to hide, easy to defend and safe enough for now. It was warm and comfortable and represented safety.

"I'll make some coffee." she said. "Are you hungry?"

Sam didn't answer, walking down the hallway and opening the door to the room where he'd finally lay eyes on his wayward brother.

Suzie heard and sensed nothing. One minute, she was measuring scoops of coffee and the next she was flat on her back on the floor with a gun held between her eyes.

"You've got two seconds to tell me what kind of game you're playing." he cocked the gun and she didn't doubt for one minute he would shoot her. She'd never seen the look in his eyes on any other person in her life. "Where is my brother?"

"I left him on the bed!" she croaked. "Honest Sam, I swear to you, he was in that room on the bed when I left here."

"You're lying to me!"

"No!" she shook her head. "I'm not! I'm not lying Sam, he was here. I called you from his phone; I wouldn't bring you here for any other reason."

"I don't believe you."

"Sam, I'm telling you the truth! I thought he'd be safe here! No one knows who I am or that I was coming after him. Whoever took him from the Sheriff's car can't know he's with me! There's no way they could know he was here!"

"THEN WHERE HE IS?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

Sam pulled the gun from her forehead and pulled her to her feet. He kept a bruising grip on her arm and dragged her down the hallway where he threw her into the empty bedroom.

"Do you see him?" he demanded shaking her. "DO YOU SEE HIM?"

"He was here!" she yelled. "Look! Look at the bed! Do you see?! That right there is proof, proof that he was here!"

The bed was still made but the comforter was mussed, streaked with blood and dirt but all that proved to Sam was someone had been on the bed who had been bleeding from injuries. There was no proof it had been Dean.

"I was gone twenty minutes Sam, long enough to meet you….he can't have gone far."

Sam ran from the room, down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. Had Dean gained consciousness, failed to remember where he was and with who and why and left in search of safety? What kind of condition had he been in? He'd be on foot, how far would he be able to get?

Fact was Sam didn't know any answers to the many questions racing through his head. Dean was hurt and alone and unarmed and vulnerable and once again, Sam was one step behind.

Dean wouldn't come to Suzie, he would hide from anyone he didn't know, just as he would run from a situation he found himself in that he didn't understand.

"DEAN!" he ran out the door, around the car, around the house, down the driveway and across the yard, bellowing his brother's name. "DEAN! Hey! Can you hear me?! DEAN!" he stopped his frantic running to listen, his ears strained for any sound that someone was moving through the grass. "DEAN!" desperation cracked his voice. "DEAN! Where the fuck are you?"

"SAM!" Suzie's voice sounded far away to Sam, he couldn't see her nor did he stop to try to find her. He whirled around to see the figure staggering towards him, knowing who it was despite the darkness.

"DEAN!" he ran forward, arms outstretched as his brother allowed himself to be enveloped into a bear hug. Sam hugged him hard, holding him tight as Dean's knees buckled and took them both to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

"He settle down any?" Suzie asked quietly, voice a whisper. "He's quiet."

Sam shifted his hip, lounging against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest as Suzette came up behind him in the doorway.

"He's asleep." unlike Suzie who was a stranger, Dean wasn't likely to be disturbed by Sam's voice so he didn't bother to keep it down. He laid his head against the frame. "Finally."

"About time." she stood on tiptoe but still couldn't see over Sam's shoulder. "He had a rough day." she shoved at his elbow until he moved aside enough for her to squeeze into the doorway with him. "Let me see." she didn't enter the room; Sam's actions clearly told her she wasn't welcome to do so. "He looks better, think he'll sleep awhile?"

"Doubt it."

She let her gaze linger on the man on the bed who was sprawled on his belly, blankets kicked to his waist. He looked a hell of a lot better than he had when Sam had dragged him into the house. He'd been pale and sweaty, streaked with dirt, mud and blood and dried sweat, his t-shirt stained with vomit and blood.

He'd also been combative until exhaustion wore him down, maybe he finally recognized Sam but if he had, he hadn't been content to relax and obey any orders or suggestions his brother had voiced. Nothing Sam said had calmed him down and he'd been forced to wrestle his brother into submission and obviously, he'd pushed as far as he was going to for now. All Sam had done was get Dean out of the soiled clothing, wipe the worst of the grime from his face and wrap bandages around his wrists to stop the bleeding.

She had a strong idea he wouldn't remain so settled if Sam were to go and leave him alone with her. Once they'd gotten back to the house where she insisted they were safe, Dean hadn't wanted anything to do with her and Sam had chased her from the bedroom had seen to his brother himself.

"If he'd let me near him, I'd help you clean him up."

All Sam had wanted, was his brother back. And he had him, was with him, where he could watch over him, take care of him and ensure no one hurt him further, but nothing was right. Dean had yet to regain complete consciousness and Sam still didn't know the extent of any injuries he was sporting. Dean fought him over everything, being picked up, being carried, being held, being undressed, being cleaned up. At first Sam blamed it on the presence of Suzie but even after he sent her from the room, Dean remained insensible.

He was going to find the person or persons responsible for the condition his brother was in and make them pay. He would have thought by now, after everything in his life, he would have learned vengeance and revenge were something he should let go, but he couldn't. Someone had hurt his brother, had tried to take him away from him and he'd be damned if they were going to get away with it.

They would learn, that just because the Winchester brothers had a fight, it didn't mean they wouldn't be there for the other. Someone had made a serious mistake. A person could do a lot to Sam Winchester. Use him, lie to him, manipulate him, mislead him, hurt him, torture him, kill him and Sam would find it in his heart to forgive and forget. Take his brother away from him and you were going to die. No doubt about it, you were going to find yourself ripped apart by Sam's own two hands. Sam only had one thing in his life and no one was ever going to take it away from him and live to tell about it.

"I managed."

"You want to try to get him to eat anything?" she asked softly. Now that Dean was somewhat cleaned up and settled in a bed with clean sheets, his sleep aided by the administration of ibuprofen, his cheek caressed by a hugged pillow, she was surprised to notice how young he looked. With his features lax, the harsh lines of life around his eyes, and the lines of pain around his mouth were gone, leaving him looking vulnerable and her with a fierce desire to protect him.

"No, got him to take some water and when he kept it down, he was willing to drink some PowerAde." he was quiet. "Didn't stay down."

"It's a start." she still spoke softly. "You sure you don't want to take him to the hospital? You can make him go."

"He's doing ok." Sam had yet to take his eyes from the bed. It was almost as if he needed the reassurance of seeing his brother breathe to believe it. "But all I did was clean up the worst and change his clothes, he smelled. I still have to make him take a shower and let me see his back. I doubt he's going to do much about it himself."

"He has time to sleep awhile before you have to do that." she watched as Dean's shoulders flexed and hunched before relaxing. Sam had him dressed in a short sleeve shirt, his bandaged wrists peeking out from under the pillow that cradled his head. "Think he's cold?"

She snuck a peek up at Sam's face when he didn't answer her. She wasn't sure what she expected from him, maybe anger, or maybe relief. Certainly not the stark unveiled emotions he let play across his features. He was chewing on the inside of one cheek but it was his eyes that had her breath catching. Oh, there was no anger, no ire, no fury, and no rage…..just an emotion she couldn't quite identify.

Like all that mattered to him, his entire world was right there, in that room, on that bed in front of him and as long as he had that, everything was ok.

Sam blinked, unfolding from his relaxed position and walking over to the bed, where he pulled the blankets up to cover his slumbering sibling. Sam caught his hand lingering at Dean's shoulder and reached out to adjust the blankets over both shoulders. Dean stirred, moving restlessly but settled back down without waking. Sam wiped his eyes and joined Suzie at the door.

"Come on." she whispered, turning the light off by the wall switch. "Let him get some sleep." she pushed Sam through the door and pulled it closed behind him. She saw his hesitation and pushed the door half way open. "Better?"

"He doesn't like the dark." Sam reached for the wall switch, not fighting her when she stilled his hand. "He won't sleep….."

"We'll hear him." she put a hand on Sam's arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he didn't pull away from her. "We'll leave the light out here in the hallway on. It's bright enough that the room won't be too dark. You can peek in on him through the door, okay? Come on, you need to eat something."

Sam followed her down the hallway but stopped by the sofa, she paused in the kitchen entryway and turned around to see why he wasn't still behind her.

"I'm gonna lay down for a while. I'll eat when I wake up." he didn't feel tired, but experience told him he was exhausted. He'd been running on adrenaline and fear and while his mind had yet to wind down, his body had.

"Sure." she nodded. "Can take the other bedroom."

"Sofa's fine." he sat down and lifted one foot to lay across his knee and worked on unknotting the laces on his boot. "Thanks, aah, for everything, you…..just thanks."

"You bet."

Suzie left him alone in the living room with the TV on for company. He was cautious around her and she couldn't blame him. He didn't know her, had no reason to trust her and was too tired to control the situation he found himself. Best thing to do was give him time.

Sam slept; not soundly and not long, just over an hour, but it was enough that he woke up feeling hungry. Time to get something to eat, take a hot shower and go to bed. Morning would be soon enough to tackle Dean and force him to obey. He heard Suzie in the kitchen and got up to join her, finally realizing it was the smell of food that had awoken him.

"How's he doing?" Suzie stood at the stove, whisking eggs. She didn't hold out much hope she'd be able to tempt Sam into eating much, if anything, but thought an egg omelet might entice him to at least sit down at the table.

"Still asleep."

"And you? You doing ok?"

He shrugged and sat down at the table, reaching for a piece of toast. "Would feel a lot better if he'd wake up."

"He will."

"Guess." he took a bite of the warm bread, licking the butter from his lips. He didn't know Suzie at all, didn't feel comfortable enough with her to share his inner fears. Worst part of waiting to see if Dean was going to wake up on his own was he had no one to share the wait time with. He had no one to lean on and draw support from and while Suzie seemed supportive, he didn't know her.

He finally understood the emotional torment Dean had suffered when he'd been waiting for Sam to wake up from having his soul restored, from waking up after the wall fell, from waking up coherent after detoxing from his addiction. Maybe it helped that Dean had Bobby with him during those hours of wait, but Sam didn't see how anything would make the wait more bearable.

"I've…just always had him, you know? Maybe Bobby…..but…..I dunno, he was always there….always took care of everything…..always made things right and he just….always did it." he rubbed his face up and down his hands. "Can't say I find it much fun being on this end of the situation, you know? I'm not known to be….very patient when I have to wait."

"Your dad? Wasn't he around?"

"Yeah…he was but Dean…." Sam shrugged. "He looked out for me and maybe I didn't always appreciate him, or acknowledge all he did for me, but he never stopped being there. I thought my childhood was so fucked up. Never had a home, always the new kid in school, hell I didn't even realize how normal my childhood was compared to his."

"He had you."

"Guess."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam found himself once again lounging in the doorway to the room where Dean slept. It was now going on eight a.m. Suzie had left for the store after cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Dean had yet to stir and though Sam was anxious to have him wake up and answer some questions, he wasn't going to force Dean awake. He'd hoped Dean would sense him and wake up on his own but no such luck.

He needed to pay serious attention to Dean's mangled wrists and make sure he had no serious injury anywhere else by checking him over thoroughly whether Dean wanted it done or not. Also, he was beginning to think Dean's sleep wasn't completely natural, not all head injuries were easily identifiable by a goose egg size lump. He hadn't thought to look for an injury to his head while wrestling him into submission earlier. Maybe he had smacked it against the cage or window in the car accident.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he pushed away from the door and walked back to crash on the sofa. He was slow from lack of sleep and constant tension, but not rendered stupid. He needed several hours of sleep and some time to sort out all he had learned and put it together. Something was going on and it was beyond his current ability to grasp. His last thoughts as he pulled the pillow over his head to block out the daylight were: Who was Suzie? Why had Dean come to this town? Who broke him out of the Sheriff's custody and why?

***000***

Dean woke up confused…he groaned, pulling his elbows in to push himself up and finding himself unable to do so. He waited for his senses to return but they remained elusive. He raised his head to peer around but his vision was blurry and despite his attempts to clear it by blinking repeatedly and lowering his head to rub his eyes against his knuckles, remained so. Well, least he could make out the sheet he was laying on had and blue stripes.

Panic started to bubble in his belly and he struggled to sit up, kicking at the blankets that had twisted around his legs like a vine making him think, in his dazed state, that his ankles were tied down. Pain flared and he choked, flinging his hands from him as if he could throw the pain away. Where the hell was he and whose bed was he in?

His saw his arm and went still. The sight of a light blue, v-necked t-shirt was all it took to quell his panic. His t-shirts were always black; it was the easiest way to tell his and Sammy's clothes apart.

Sammy.

He let himself go limp and collapsed face first into the mattress. If he were in bed, dressed in his brother's clothes, then his brother was close by.

"Sam?" he called, turning his head sideways on the mattress, rubbing sweat from his face on the sheet. "SAM?" he swallowed, his throat dry, voice not very strong. "Sam? SAM!"

"What?" and he was there, yawning as he stretched. "Hey, you're ok….."

"Sammy." now that he knew Sam was there, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Being awake brought too much pain and he wasn't ready to face it yet. The blind and utter panic that had consumed him upon regaining consciousness was no longer a force driving him to seek safety. He didn't need to, didn't need to do anything, didn't have to worry about where he was or try to remember what had happened or what to do next. He couldn't, he was too tired and too sick with pain to care about anything.

It was Sam's problem to care about.

Sam though, had other ideas. He'd worked himself into a tirade and now that Dean was awake, he was determined to let him have it and get some answers.

"Don't you ever do that again!" Sam ranted as he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, hands flailing. He alternated between gripping his hair, settling his hands up his hips, punching his fist into his palm, interlacing his fingers behind his neck and flinging them about empty air. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?"

Dean kept his eyes closed because Sam's constant movement caused waves of dizziness to crash against his skull but those words uttered in that tone, popped his eyes wide open.

"Say what?" he struggled to sit up but only managed to flip to his back and raise his head to lay against the headboard, chin to chest. Sitting up made the dizziness caused by Sam's pacing to drive him nauseous and remaining upright without support would cause him to pass out - if he didn't puke in his own lap first. "What I put you through? What?" he shook his head to clear his ears lest they be clogged. Bad move. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" he blinked, where the hell was he? The question didn't require an answer because the answer didn't matter. Sam was with him, wherever the hell here was and even though his brother was furious, Dean was safe. He frowned, shaking his head and raising his voice had not been a good idea because he couldn't think straight.

Sam stopped pacing, eyes wide as he stared at his brother, unable to wipe the expression of disbelief from his face. Dean was mad at him? What the hell? What did he possibly have to be mad about?

"How does it feel Sam? The terror that claws at your belly, the fear that clogs your throat, the guilt that makes you shake. How the hell does that make you feel? Christ Sam!" the set down probably would have served its purpose better had his voice been strong and not so breathless. It was delivered with such a weak, trembling voice that Sam went all soft and sympathetic and was helping Dean sit up so he wasn't putting much weight on his shoulders or his back.

"I was possessed or taken or body swapped or addicted, I never just…." he stopped. He had up and left his brother before; had snuck out in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. He'd done it as a kid, a teenager and an adult without so much as leaving a note. "I never took a fucking vacation without so much as a phone call to you!"

"A vacation? What the hell made you think I took a vacation?" he couldn't do this, couldn't be angry and have this argument now. "You were the one who got in my face and told me to leave you alone! To go away and make myself scarce."

"I meant take a walk, go get a burger. I didn't mean for you to LEAVE! What the hell was that all about?" he blinked at the sound of a whimper and looked down to see Dean biting his lower lip, face contorted in a grimace of pain. "Shit." it was then he realized he still had his brother by the shoulders and had shaken him. "Sorry, Christ Dean, I'm sorry."

His brief spurt of energy spent, Dean let his eyes close. He didn't want to manipulate Sam this way but he just wasn't up to a fight. Best to give Sam some time to calm down, maybe by then, Dean would feel more up to staying awake and having this confrontation.

"Dean?" his voice was all soft again, concern replacing anger. "Sorry, man, you ok?"

Dean felt the tight grip on his shoulders turn into a caress, easing him flat onto the mattress. He didn't resist. Truth was, he could feel his tenuous grip on consciousness slipping steadily away from him.

"Okay, it's ok." he heard Sam murmur as the pillows were taken from where they'd been piled against the headboard and laid under his head. "You'll be ok, just go ahead and get some sleep." the pillow under his head smelled like flowers. He didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, but flowers? His last thought before he allowed the darkness to claim him was that smell did not come from any motel bed sheet.

Awesome. Sam's fist struck the door frame with the heel of his hand as he left the bedroom. His brother finally wakes up and what does he do? Shake him, yell at him, scold him and allow his frustrations and fears to get the better of him. And the cost? Dean slinking back into the black depths of oblivion. Since when had he become afraid his brother would decide he'd had enough of Sam and leave him?

"Did the door growl at you?" Suzie teased as he came into the kitchen where she was unloading grocery bags.

"What?"

"You're beating up the walls."

"Oh." he looked at his hand, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist. "Sorry."

"He wake up?"

"Yeah…for a bit, went right back under."

"But he was ok, right? Knew you?"

"Oh yeah." he took a beer from the fridge, missing the look Suzie cast his way. "Next time he wakes up though, he's gonna know it."

"The pain, you mean? Yeah, I'd say so." she tossed him an apple. "Need ice?"

"Naw, I'm good." he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. "Just, he…."

"You hungry? Can make you a sandwich, ham or turkey, choice of cheese….is he going to eat?"

"He passed out." he drank from the bottle then held it so he could see what he was drinking, beer - Dean's favorite liquid meal. "Uh, any coffee?" he set the bottle on the counter, he wasn't about to start that habit now.

"Sure, so…..what next?"

"Let him sleep awhile." Sam got up to get mustard. "Force him into the shower and make him let me see his back." he took the loaf of bread from her and a head of lettuce. "Dunno, guess I should see if he hit his head in the accident, he didn't focus his eyes when he was awake, was sick earlier." he rubbed the back of his neck. "He...was...I dunno, lucid for a bit, than faded out on me again."

"So, he didn't tell you anything? Was he capable of it?"

"Didn't ask…he wasn't...he's pretty weak. I didn't want to push and I'm tired of him fighting me."

"Sam…..if you suspect a head injury...and you can't wait much longer before his wrists..."

"I know, I know." he sighed. "I'll do it, I will. Sleep helped clear my head and I'll feel better after I have something to eat…I'm gonna need more peroxide or alcohol and some gauze. Did you think to get any, um supplies?"

"Got you covered." she pointed to another bag she had yet to unpack. "How bad do you think his wrists are?"

"Dunno, he doesn't want me touching them. All I've done is wrap bandages around gauze padding so he didn't bleed all over the bed. I haven't tried to clean them up or really touch them."

"Cuffs, you think?"

"Dunno. Don't see how, from what I saw, I've never known cuffs to do that kind of damage."

"Eat." she encouraged. "We'll tackle him later."

Dean was still asleep when Sam carried hot water, couple wash cloths, anti-bacterial liquid soap, gauze pads, peroxide and Bacitracin Zinc ointment into the room. He hated to disturb him, knew what he was about to do would rouse him from his peaceful sleep but he couldn't delay treatment to those wrists any longer. It might be he'd waited too long and find that infection was evident. He also had to get Dean to let him see his back and check for signs of head injury or concussion. He was well aware Dean didn't want him paying too much attention to his wrists and back because the injuries would tell Sam how Dean had acquired them.

Dean slept through Sam picking up his right hand and un-wrapping the bandage. He didn't begin to stir until Sam began pulling on the gauze padding that stuck to his skin from dried blood and puss. Sam swallowed hard, puss meant infection and signs of infection in less than twenty-four hours weren't good.

"Stop." Sam ordered softly, holding tight when Dean tried to pull his hand close to his chest. He was lying on his side and Sam had to stop him from turning onto his stomach and hiding his hands. "Dean…don't…come on…let me see." he easily unwrapped the bandage the hospital had wrapped around his hand to protect the stitches they'd set. Dean didn't seem to care about that, letting Sam trace the line of thread with a fingertip and it gave Sam time to let Dean settle down.

Sam had treated a lot of injuries over the years. His own, his dad's, Dean's, people he considered friend, complete strangers. He'd seen just about every kind of injury a person could have. Mild ones, minor ones, serious ones, life threatening ones. He'd seen people bear pain, overcome it, faint from it, fight it, give in to it, succumb to, die from it.

He'd seen damage and injuries that were the result of abuse, torment and torture inflicted by both humans and creatures, dealt out in anger and hate and fury, and had seen fatal injuries that caused a person to die slowly in extreme pain. Had seen human bodies gutted and torn apart…but this? This, God this, this made him sick to his stomach and forced him to swallow back bile that surged up his throat. Someone had done this to his brother.

He sat, his brother's hand in his lap, holding his arm against his thigh with just his thumb, unable to do anything more than sit there and rub the stitches as he fought not to vomit in revulsion.

He blinked rapidly, biting his lip, and his eyes filled. Dean had been restrained by every restraint known to man over the course of his life. Sam would know, he'd released his brother from rope, string, zip ties, electrical cords, metal cuffs, leather cuffs, hand cuffs, chains, and various articles of clothing and not once had Sam ever known him to fight any restraints like he had this time. And fight them, he had. The torn, shredded proof of how hard he had done so was bleeding onto his knees.

What had been done to him to cause him to fight the cuffs until he stripped the skin from his own wrists and tore through layers of tendons? How much pain would he have been in, to cause that?

"How bad?" Suzie lingered in the doorway. "He doesn't seem to happy, can hear him whining."

Dean's eyes opened and searched for the voice. Sam watched him and knew, he knew Dean recognized her because he didn't tense and shove a hand under the pillow in search of a gun. His throat tightened and his belly knotted in anger. Dean was awake and lucid and he knew Suzie.

"Hey, darling." Dean gave her a lazy grin. "Sammy drag you here to treat my boo-boos?"

"Hey Dean." she grinned back, next thing she knew, a hand was around her throat, squeezing until she couldn't breathe. She clawed at the hand that was choking her even as her head slammed into the wall she was thrown against.

"Who the hell are you?"

"SAM! HEY!" Dean surged to his knees. "SAM!"

"Who is she?" Sam demanded. "Who the fuck is she Dean? I swear, if this is some fucked up kinky sex game…."

"NO!" Dean yelped miserably. "I don't know! I mean, yeah, but….no….." he groaned. "Just let her go!"

"Do you know her?" Sam roared, shaking her, easily holding her off the floor with just one hand around her throat. "GOD DAMMIT DEAN!"

"Sam! LET HER GO!" Dean had got out of bed and was pulling on Sam's shoulder. "STOP IT! You're choking her!"

It was the warmth of blood dripping onto his arm, not the gurgling girl being choked against the wall that broke through Sam's haze of fury, made him come to his senses and realize the girl he was choking was purple.

"Who are you?" Sam eased his grip up a bit. "Who the hell are you?"

"Nice to meet you, Sam Winchester." she grimaced. "Do you mind?" she tugged weakly at his wrist. "Trying to breathe here."

"Who are you and how do you know who we are?"

"She called me." Dean was swaying, clutching the arm Sam held out to him. "Sammy….." his eyes rolled and Sam dropped Suzie to catch his brother as Dean passed out in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean/want to maim/cripple the man! So let's accept that medical facts have been twisted for the purpose of this story. Hmmmm, I'm gonna run with that

"Dammit." Sam let Dean's weight take him to the floor, wanting to break his fall. Suzie wisely crawled out to the hallway where she sat on the floor with her back against the wall, one hand holding her throat as she recovered, not once taking her eyes from them.

Sam was beyond pissed, he was incensed. Dean had not only left him and played loose in a town where he'd been arrested; he'd also been hurt and was keeping shit from him. Some girl Sam had never heard of before had called him; a girl Dean obviously knew well enough to trust and leave Sam to go to. Sam did not like it. He tamped down the memories that insisted on teasing him about what he had done in the past and focused on controlling his anger as he turned his attention to the body sprawled in his arms.

Twisting around, he attempted to snag one of the wash cloths that had fallen from the bed. He cursed when Dean remained limp and heavy across his lap, forced to acknowledge that once again, his brother was unconscious and unlikely to rouse on his own anytime soon.

"Here." Suzie scrambled around the intertwined pair on the floor, retrieved the cloths and held them out to Sam. "Sam."

"Don't." Sam ordered. "Don't talk to me. There's nothing you can say that will make this right." he'd had enough, wouldn't, couldn't take any more. He didn't want anything from her, not her explanations, not her help, not even if it benefited Dean.

"Let me explain…." she tried, jumping as he snatched the wash cloths from her hand.

"Yeah, I want an explanation." Sam groused as he maneuvered himself onto his hip, hands wrapping the cloths around Dean's wrist. Not even the pain from the rough handling brought Dean awake. "But not from you. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." he'd failed to gain control of his anger and anger was an emotion he welcomed. Letting his anger roam free would allow him to get answers he wanted and from Dean they would come, one way or another.

"Let me help you get him..."

"Don't touch him." Sam shifted his weight around until he was sitting on his knees. "Get out, go away, go to Egypt, go to hell, just go the fuck away."

"You're upset." she stated, hands help up in a placating gesture.

"You think?" he snapped sarcastically with a grunt. Dean was far heavier than Sam remembered. Course, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had to pick him up and carry him any distance on his own. Suzie had helped him get Dean into the house when they'd found him out in the yard. "Just get out of my sight."

"Sam, I didn't do this to him, I don't know who did. I can help you...for his sake, let me..."

"You just…..you need to go away, 'cause I'm not doing so good holding it together."

"Okay, ok…" she knew when to retreat. She knew Sam didn't trust her but she hadn't realized he was possessive. "But I'm not leaving, I'll be out in the kitchen…just…if you need any help, call me, okay?" she wasn't sure about allowing Sam to have control of the situation but until Dean was awake and sensible enough to talk to him, she felt it wise not to confront Sam.

Sam didn't answer; he just wanted her away from him and nowhere near Dean. He would deal with who she was later; right now he was going to find out any and all injuries his brother had, even if he had to apply physical force to do it. Turned out he didn't need to, Dean didn't even so much as skip a breath during Sam's less than gentle perusal of his unconscious self.

Using his free hand, he maneuvered Dean's head onto his knee and thumbed open one eyelid at a time, searching for unequal pupils. Rather late to be doing that, but it made Sam feel better. Dean continued to remain unresponsive, allowing Sam to manhandle him however he wanted as Sam pushed and poked and prodded in search of any other injuries.

"Okay." Sam was finally satisfied that other than his wrists, which had him worried, his back, which was superficial, and an apparent head injury, which he still didn't know the extent of, there were no other injuries to his brother that required attention. Time for a shower. Hot water and soap would cause his back to sting like a bitch, but cleaning those scrapes and cuts and brush burns had to be done, might as well start by washing the worst of the dirt and grime off in the shower.

First things first, wake him up. Sam looked down and just like that, his mental state shifted yet again and he slumped, anger gone. He eased off his knees and went down on his ass, Dean still in his arms and across his lap. Was there really any need to put his brother back to bed or force him into a shower just yet? What would it hurt to remain on the floor until he woke up on his own? Who would dare question why he was doing so? Dean? He wouldn't even know what he was doing on the floor. Suzie? Not if she was fond of her teeth and wanted to keep them all.

Oh yeah, well, there was one problem. That would be the warm wetness of blood that oozed through Sam's fingers that clenched a cloth around Dean's wrist. Well, that was his fault, he'd been the one to yank the gauze off, not expecting the extent of damage he'd found.

"Dean, hey, come on, wake up…Dean?"

Dean felt the light slap against his cheek, heard the coaxing lilt to the most familiar voice in the world to him. A voice he'd been conditioned to respond too. Knew who it was who was attempting to wake him up but also knew from experience that if he ignored the gentle persuasion, the attempts would quit and he would be left alone. He was comfortable where he was and waking up would result in pain and discomfort, so this was one time Sam would have to deal with his disappointment.

Sam bit his lip when Dean pulled his head away from his touch and turned his face towards his stomach. Knowing it for what it was, an instinctive move by an unconscious person seeking to remain unconscious. It was the first movement from Dean since they'd ended up on the floor. Sam was beginning to feel worried, he wanted his brother awake and no longer just to get answers. He wanted Dean to talk to him, to remember where he was and what had happened. Wanted some kind of proof, his brother was ok and not suffering from a head injury Sam couldn't diagnose.

Trapping his tongue between his teeth, he girded himself against the displeasure he knew was coming and forced his brother awake. It was time to find out how serious a head injury Dean might have.

Suzie tried to mind her own business and remain in the kitchen but once she heard Dean weakly arguing with Sam, she found herself back at the bedroom door. It appeared Sam was insistent that Dean take a shower and Dean was just as insistent that he go back to bed and shower whenever that wasn't now. She quietly approached the bedroom, noting that Dean's voice was slurred and Sam's was increasingly impatient.

"Sam….don't hurt him." she frowned. "Sam….SAM!"

"Stay out of this." he hauled Dean to his feet, hand still holding to Dean's wrist, grip so tight, his knuckles were white. Dean couldn't keep his feet and Sam was forced to ease his other arm around Dean's waist and let him slump against Sam for support. "Dean, don't play with me."

"You don't need to be so rough." her voice was sharp and she reminded herself to tread carefully with Sam. The speed with which his emotions swung from angry to concern to impatient and back to anger scared her.

"Get out of my way." he'd deal with her scolding him later. Dean had yet to try to support his own weight and Sam didn't bother to figure out if it was because he couldn't or was refusing to because he didn't want to obey Sam and wanted to go to bed.

She didn't move from the doorway, eyes on Dean and ignoring Sam. "Dean? Dean?"

Dean blinked slowly, staggering for balance when he was released and left to stand by himself. He was trying to pull himself together, somehow realizing that all was not well with Sam who was on his way to remove Suzie from the doorway. Sam heard the thud behind him and turned around to see Dean on his knees, falling forward to land on his palms, hands out to brace his fall. His right arm buckled under the pressure against his stitches and he fell onto his elbow with a cry of pain that had Sam kneeling beside him, pulling him back up to his knees with a hand on either shoulder.

"You ok?" Sam asked worriedly, tipping Dean's head up by two fingers under his chin. "Dean, man, I'm…" he saw that Dean's eyes were opened and focused and searching for the feminine voice and completely lost his temper. "What the hell?!" he exploded. "Jesus Christ Dean, I can't believe you!"

"Sam…." Dean moaned, teeth clicking as he was held by the shoulders and shaken. "Urrgh!"

"I want some fucking answers Dean. Why did you have your phone on you in the Sheriff's car? Who caused the accident? Who broke that chain and took you out of the car? Why did you get into a car with Suzie? How did she just happen to be there? Find you? How do you know her? Why was she following the Sheriff to county? Why didn't she want you there? Why did she call you? Is she why you left me and came here? Why did you leave the house when she came to get me? What the hell is going on Dean? You don't want to tell me how you did that to your wrists, fine, I can pretty much tell you the story. Who dragged you? Your back tells me everything I need to know AND WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GOD DAMN CAR?"

Dean tried, he did, but he couldn't follow a word Sam was shouting at him. He heard his voice, wanted to respond but his hands were making their displeasure with him known and his head was listening to what his body was saying and it was demanding oblivion.

"SAM!" she'd been tugging ineffectively on his arm to try to stop him from shaking Dean and now launched herself against Sam, bodily barreling into him. Dean had neither the strength nor the required awareness to break free from Sam. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled, grabbing hair, a finger, an ear, skin, whatever she could get a hold of. "Let him go! SAM! LET HIM GO! You're hurting him!"

Sam rose to his feet, Dean on the floor in front of him. Suzie was between him and his brother, hands on his chest, pushing him back and landing kicks to his shins. All he could think to do was defend himself against attack but when the fist he drew back was caught and a hand cupped his chin, he didn't fight it. The assault against his legs was becoming painful, breaking through his haze of rage

"Sammy." though Dean had managed to shove back the encroaching blackness to stop Sam, the effort had cost him. He couldn't stop the trembling that overtook his entire body, breaking out into a cold sweat.

Sam felt heavy breathing against his cheek, realized someone was in his face, wedging a thumb into his fist and grinding against the palm of his hand. Came to realize the room was actually not spinning out of control around him, that the thrumming causing this body to vibrate was the violent trembling of his brother leaning against him for the support needed to remain on his feet.

"Stop." Dean commanded. "You need to stop, I'm right here, okay? Right here, see? It's me, come on, come back, Sam, come on, come on Sam." he kept talking; his voice calm until Sam relaxed, pushing a hand through his hair. "You ok? Huh? Go." with an obvious struggle, Dean stepped back. "Take a walk, okay? Go out to the kitchen and get some water. Go on."

Sam didn't move, then stepped back, hands shaking. "Don't you dare go back to bed."

"Sam, take a walk." Dean ordered. "I can't fight you, I'm not up to it, so please, just go." Suzie stepped aside and once Sam had walked from the room, she turned on Dean who had collapsed on the bed as soon as Sam's back was turned.

"Well?" she demanded, hands on hips. "Dean?"

"What?" he groaned, pulling a pillow into his lap to hug. "God, pul-leese just lemme be."

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, shaken but calming down. "He's out of control Dean."

"You attacked him." Dean managed to point out. He wanted to lie down, curl up and pass out but knew he didn't have that luxury. His determination to put aside his own misery and discomfort and once again take care of Sam was an epic failure. His ability to stay focused and have a conversation with Suzie was waning. He wanted to stay awake and see to Sam, make sure he had calmed down and find out what had pissed him off to begin with but his head was determined to have its own way.

"He was hurting you!"

"He'd never hurt me." Dean said quietly. "Or you, well, long as you don't shake, smother, stab or shoot me." he joked with a lame grin that faded. "Or attack him, look, I'm sorry Sue, he's not himself….yeah, he's been struggling…..been having a hard time for a while now, he seems to do ok, long as I'm ok, you know?" he felt himself falling sideways, he tried to catch himself but it was no use. "Just don't do anything else to piss him off."

"So, what? You're saying as long as nothing happens to you, he remains in control? He needs help Dean, he needs to learn to control that anger, to address the reason why he is so angry and why it gets out of control."

"He has help." his eyes rolled and he brought his right hand up to squint at. Damn, but his hands, both of them hurt and he wondered what he had done to them. He was lying on his left arm but a brief struggle revealed that wrist was bandaged, unlike his right. Huh, looks like he had stitches, and they - or something - were bleeding, a lot, could that be why he felt so weak and dizzy? "I'm here." and he welcomed the comfort of blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

Not again, not now.

Sam sat in the kitchen, bottle of beer on the table between his hands, head lowered as he fought for dominance over his fractured mind. He warred between shaking every last bit of truth of out Suzie, leaving to go after whoever had taken his brother and accepting the truth. The truth being that Dean needed him more than Sam needed to go hunt down the people who were responsible for the condition his brother was in. Dean needed care and comfort and stability. Sam needed to kick the shit out of someone, Suzie not being an option.

He thumped his head repeatedly against the beer bottle, wrestling to rein in his outrage. He needed to calm down, stay where he was and take Suzie up on her offer to help him take care of his brother. And after one look at the damage done to Dean's wrist, he couldn't deny the injury wasn't serious. He'd yet to even see the other wrist or the damage under the dirt and grime on his back

Every time he felt he'd reached a decision, a flash of memory, a recalled word caused him to start rethinking. He'd collected himself enough to admit Suzie was no threat to them. Despite his confusion upon awakening and not always recognizing her, Dean trusted her enough to remain with her and that was good enough for Sam, even if he had no intention of admitting it to her.

He needed to get on top of this, bury his anger, his feelings, his emotions and be there for Dean. What he wanted to do and what he would do might not be the same thing, but the outcome was the same, would always be the same. He might not always go about it the right way, but he would always see his brother safe and well before leaving him to exact revenge. And get revenge he would.

Dean might be safe, at least Sam believed him to be but he was far from well and hell would move to earth before he would leave him until he was.

He had to cap his anger; it was no longer an option. Allowing anger to have its way had resulted in his brother being hurt by his own hands. He couldn't chance that happening again, couldn't trust that Dean would be there to stop him from hurting Suzie who was only trying to stop him from hurting Dean, who he would never really hurt and oh, Christ, his life was messed up.

Dean had been getting better, drinking less, eating more, sleeping at night, in a bed like a person was supposed to, able to interact with the public. Sam had struggled for months to hold it together so he wouldn't be another burden to his overtaxed brother and it was harder and harder to do so but he couldn't break, couldn't fall, couldn't give in, couldn't let go, not now, not yet.

He'd been so sure he'd be able to hold himself together and remain sane and he had, right up until someone had stepped in and taken his brother. Until he'd come across strangers in a screwed up town who'd all wanted to keep his but hadn't and he'd ended up….what, kidnapped and tortured? Or rescued?

"Sam?' Suzie tentatively took the bottle of beer from his lax grip and replaced it with a mug. "Just sip, ok? Don't go gulping."

He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge her, he didn't know what to say so he ignored her.

"Dean, um…..passed out…his wrist is really bleeding Sam, his left one has now bled through the bandage…do you want me to…?"

"I told him not to go back to bed." his fingers curled around the mug and he raised it to take a sniff; hot tea with lemon, splash of brandy, and a touch of milk. "Where are the cuffs?"

"What cuffs?"

"The ones you removed."

She didn't question him, just walked from the room and returned with the requested handcuffs which she laid on the table when Sam didn't reach to take them from her.

"You have a key to handcuffs?" he stared at the offending object on the table in hate.

"Yes." she said simply.

"You had everything here I needed to tend to his hands, knew to buy what you didn't. He knows you, asked if I had brought you here to treat his boo-boos. You know something about first aid." he brought his head up. "Don't you?"

"You seem more than capable of taking care of him yourself."

"Just once, give me a straight answer!" he flared, liquid splashing in the mug and he forced himself to relax.

"Yes." she said. "Yes, I do."

"Were his hands in front or behind him when you found him?"

"In front, why?"

"They told me at county lock up he was taken from the Sheriff's car with his hands cuffed behind him." he finally reached for the cuffs, pulling them across the table by the length of chain.

"Sam, he seems able to tolerate a lot of pain, but you can't continue to ignore his hands."

"There are signs of infection." Sam said absently, attention on the chain he held between his fingers. "How much blood do you think he's lost?"

"You mean, still losing? Sam, look, he doesn't always recognize me when he regains consciousness. When that happens, he doesn't let me near him. Hell, he fought you at first but you were strong enough to wear him down, I'm not. Let's get him cleaned up, take a good look at those wrists and then make any decisions, okay?"

"You were in Somersville." Sam took a sip of the toddy. "You followed the Sheriff's car when it left town. You knew everything that happened." he tugged on the links of the chain. "Told me Mooch didn't cause the accident, didn't flinch when I said it was Doris I had a problem with. Dean came to town because you called him." the chain held steady, there was no way Dean had broken it free from the bolt securing it in the car. It had been cut. With that proof, as well as the different position in which his hands had been found, any lingering hope Sam had that Dean had escaped the car on his own was extinguished. He had been taken, forcefully and by no one he called friend.

"I intended to confront Sheriff Dobbin before he turned Dean over to lock up. The Sheriff's a good guy and would have listened to me."

"Right, the Sheriff."

"We never made it there Sam. I was ten minutes behind them when I came upon the accident. I then spent three hours looking for Dean. I found him just walking down the road."

"While I wasted my time in Somersville looking for him."

"I didn't know you had come to town."

"You knew to call me."

"Dean said you were never far from him."

"Why didn't you want Dean in county lock up?"

"I don't trust anyone there."

"Is that why you called Dean? Or did you call him for a weekend of fun?" the look he gave her told her he wasn't in any mood for teasing. "Would whoever you don't trust know you were following the Sheriff?"

"You mean, would they have prevented Dean from getting there?" she shook her head. "No."

"Can Weeble be trusted?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Trying to figure a few things out. Was the bar scene a set-up?"

"For what?"

"There's only one person I encountered while in Somersville that wanted to keep Dean whom I never actually met." Sam pushed back from the table. "Does anyone else call you Suzie besides Dean or does everyone else call you Glitter?"

"Dean always did brag you were the smart one." even though Sam continued to sit calmly at the table, sipping the hot toddy, she felt better putting the table between herself and Sam. "It's not what you think Sam. Everything I've told you has been the truth. I didn't set him up. I didn't know he'd been in a fight at the bar or been hurt until he showed up in the ER with Weeble."

"I can't care about that right now." he stood up, tossing the cuffs into a corner on the floor. "I'm going to wake him up and make him take a shower. We'll continue this conversation while I do everything I can to prevent having to take him to a doctor."

"Do you think he needs one?"

"I'm hoping to hell he doesn't"

"But if he does, will you take him to one?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Sam, you asked him who dragged him, what did you mean by that?"

"From what I've seen, his injuries are consistent with being forcefully dragged on his back by his hands."

"While cuffed?"

"Would explain his wrists."

"Just how bad are they Sam?"

"Could be worse."


	12. Chapter 12

"Sam?" his voiced quivered, a hand against the wall to give him support. "I don't…want a shower." he'd refused Sam's request to get up, had ignored the order that had followed the pleas, had dragged his feet down the hallway. Dean was one person who could resist his brother, not that it had made any difference, he was still where he didn't want to be. Weak as he was, he hadn't been able to stop Sam from dragging him out of bed, across the room and down the hallway to the bathroom.

"You need one." tampering his anger down to simmer, he turned his back on his brother before he caved in and allowed Dean to have his own way. Dean had woken up lucid enough to know Sam was about to force him into a shower he didn't want, but he was in no condition to give Sam any of the answers he wanted and that made Sam angry.

"But…now? Please? Can't you….just let me lay down?" he begged. He sure wished he knew what he had done to piss his brother off. No doubt about it, Sam was pissed. Otherwise he'd be where he hadn't wanted to leave in the first place, in bed. He didn't remember waking up and having a conversation with Suzie, couldn't remember where he was or why he felt like he did. All he could comprehend was, Sam was pissed and it was at him.

Sam adjusted the water temperature and turned to face his brother who was now leaning with his shoulder against the wall, shaking so badly the knick-knacks on the shelf rattled.

"Either get in on your own or I will throw you in."

Dean let his head rest against the wall but Sam wasn't swayed, this had to be done and he couldn't back down now, not even with Dean biting on his lower lip. A sure sign he was close to breaking. Dean had his eyes closed but he knew when Sam reached for him and slapped the outstretched hand away.

"I've got it." he mumbled, not moving. "Gimme a minute."

The shower wasn't pleasant; he wasn't prepared for how badly the water stung and burned. Not only that, he was so dizzy and light-headed he couldn't remain on his feet. His head flooded and when Sam left him alone in the shower, he sank to his knees, facing the water and despite the cramping in his thighs, sat there until Sam ordered him to get out.

He hadn't touched shampoo or soap and it wasn't because he wanted to give Sam a hard time, it was because he simply didn't have the strength to wrap his mind around what he was supposed to do with the ball of mesh-netting he held in his hand. He went through the motion of drying off, dressed in the pants Sam had left for him and was looking for a shirt when Sam barged in and forced him down on to the tub side to remove the bandage from his left wrist that had been left on while he showered.

It didn't go any better than the shower had. Sam was snapping at him to sit still and stop jerking away and to shut up about wanting a shirt and could he please, just cease doing shit to give Sam a hard time? Dean was fighting back the overwhelming urge to faint when Sam discovered he hadn't used any soap.

"Seriously Dean?" Sam yelled, frustrated. "Twenty fucking minutes and you couldn't even pick up the bar of soap? What the hell did you think I put you in the shower for?"

"Sorry." his eyes were closed but he heard the thump of the peroxide bottle hitting the wall from being thrown. He waited for Sam to continue and it took a good five minutes for him to realize Sam had left him alone in the bathroom and he was somehow sitting on the floor, slumped against the tub.

"Dean? Get out here!" Sam yelled. "Don't make me come in there!" pause, a curse, then. "You won't like it if I have to come after you!"

"Fuck." he eased onto his hip, then his hands and knees and by using one bathroom fixture after another, managed to crawl his way up to his feet and over to the door. A grab gone wrong with his hand put pressure against the stitches and he was back on his knees, wrists too weak to support his weight by hanging onto the door frame and keep him upright.

He teetered on wobbly knees, fighting tears of frustration and exhaustion and pain, wanting to let go, to do what he wanted, to say to hell with it all. It'd be so easy to just close his eyes and allow his body to go limp. To pass out on the cold, hard bathroom floor and be done with all the turmoil and confusion that had him fighting to make sense of a situation he didn't understand. Who would care? Who would it hurt?

"DEAN!"

Oh right, Sammy..

He had to show Sam that nothing was wrong; that all he had suffered was a scratch cause much as he wanted to believe Sam was alright and Suzie was in no danger from him, he knew better. He staggered to his feet without the aid of his hands, hadn't thought it would be so hard to do so. Once standing, he couldn't remain upright and he doubled over, panting through his attempt to stave off the blackness that was seconds away from claiming him. And it would claim him, of that there was no doubt; there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

"Sam…..I…..don't….."

"You don't what Dean?" Sam snapped back. "Don't want to be here, don't want me around, don't want to do this? What the hell is it you don't want this time?" he glared daggers at the man who was swaying like a flag flapping in the wind in the bathroom doorway.

"I don't….." his already pale face turned a shade of green then went ashen. "Feel…..so…..good." thump.

Sam stared at the crumpled heap on the floor at his feet. Great, just great, just what he didn't need now. This was what, the third, fourth or fifth time Dean had passed out on him? He clenched his fists, took a moment then knelt beside the heap on the floor.

"Dean? DEAN! HEY, Can you HEAR me?" Sam gave his brother a gentle shake, hands holding Dean's head in a secure grip. "DEAN!"

Dean winced. "They can hear you in China." he muttered, raising his fingertips to brush his forehead. "Ow!" he squirmed into a position where he was mostly on his side, his back not caring for the burden of his weight against the hard floor. He moved to pull his knees up but he was hauled to his feet by a hand grasping his elbow. Huh, when the hell had Sammy gotten strong enough to do that? He didn't remain limp on purpose but he just couldn't coordinate his muscles to tighten so he could aid his transport back to bed.

"Sam?" Suzie was in the door. "Everything ok?"

"No." he was mad at himself, not Dean yet his brother was bearing the brunt of his anger. He hadn't realized Dean was so weak; had failed to notice he was disoriented and groggy and unable to follow even the simplest of instructions, such as what he was supposed to do in the shower. "I'm beginning to think he smacked his head harder than I thought."

"What makes you think that? Both you and I checked him over for injury Sam, no bump or lump, not even a tender spot."

"He doesn't remember anything and he's passed out, what five or six times?"

"Uh, maybe twice?" she guessed and frowned as she stopped to think back. "Huh."

"When you took the cuffs off, when he came to me out in the yard, when he threw up the PowerAde, when he woke up lucid enough to yell at me about leaving me, when he stopped me from trying to choke you….."

"Trying?" she grinned wryly.

"When he fell on his hands….." Sam continued, giving her an annoyed look.

"He didn't pass out then." she pointed out. "And it could have been from pain from the cuffs being removed and the exertion of running from the house and dizziness from throwing up and you yelled right back at him, you in a rage would scare anyone. I don't blame him for passing out to avoid that scene."

"He would have if he hadn't made me so mad I shook him." Sam went on. "Just now, after his shower and god knows what happened while he was in the shower or when I left him sitting on the tub….."

"What do you need?" Suzie offered. "What can we do? He doesn't show any immediate signs of a concussion."

"He's dizzy and disoriented and confused and…"

"He's lost a lot of blood Sam. His hand, both wrists, his back…we still don't know what, if anything was done to him while he was with whoever took him from the Sheriff's car."

"We're about to." Sam muttered. "How good a first aid kit do you have?"

"Usual household one. Why?"

"Don't suppose you have any idea where our car is?" obsessing about its whereabouts was going to give high blood pressure before he turned thirty but doing so took his mind of what he was about to put his brother through.

"Sorry, no clue. Do you need it? You have a car."

"It's stolen." Sam admitted. "The Impala has everything I need. We've met and helped a doctor or two over the years, we've, uh, yeah, so…" he stuttered into silence. "Shit."

"She's at the bar." Dean squirmed about the bed until he was on his left side. A position Sam had come to realize he favored.

"Who is?" Suzie asked Sam. "What bar?"

"The car." he grinned, running a hand through his hair. The grin faded as he was faced with a dilemma. He not only needed what was in the car to help Dean, he wanted the car back. Hell must now be on earth because he was seriously thinking about leaving his brother to go get the car. "And I'm assuming he means Harkens. I looked in the lot though and didn't see her….it" he amended hastily with a wince, hoping Dean hadn't caught his slip of the tongue.

"You called her, her." Dean's smirk ended on a groan as he buried his face in the pillow. "She's there, look out back."

"You do what you're trained to do." he pointed at Suzie. "Do what he will let you to keep him comfortable. I should be back in an hour."

"Where are you going?" she asked alarmed. "Sam, he doesn't have an hour! We need to…"

"To get our car. Do you have antibiotics and a suture kit or surgical scissors here?"

"Surgical scis….." she echoed, stunned. "Sam…."

"Take a good look at those wrists Suzie, you're an ER nurse, right? He's going to need internal stitches and I have to find skin somewhere to sew back together. Means if I have to cut away any lose, torn skin, I'm not going to use the scissors from your kitchen drawer."

"Then screw all this and let's just go to the ER."

"Where the Sheriff or Weeble or whoever you don't trust at county or whoever did this to him can get to him? No." Sam hesitated; leaving Dean was harder than he'd thought. "He can move his hands, if he couldn't I'd already be at a hospital."

"What about a tetanus shot? You don't know what….."

"He's had one within the last year." stay with Dean and send Suzie after the car or go after the car and leave Dean in Suzie's care? "Can you properly apply a tourniquet?"

"A what?" she asked startled. "Why? No!"

What the fuck was wrong with him? What the hell was he thinking? He tossed Suzie the Impala's keys. Since when was seeing the Impala with his own eyes and being able to lay his hands on her - it - more important than his brother?

"Stolen car has keys….." he grinned at her astonished look. "Yeah, I know. Leave it somewhere near town and walk to the bar to get the Impala. Try not to talk to anyone and come straight back here."

"Sam, what are you going to do?"

"Try and stop the bleeding while you're gone, do what I can with the supplies I have until you get back." doubt over trusting her had crept into his voice and Dean stirred at his hesitation.

"S'ok Sammy." he murmured. "She'll come back."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** My sister, who is my medical fact advisor, is still annoyed with me and at the moment, not speaking to me. (Olive Tree - Olive Garden, who knew they were two different restaurants? It's 2012, woman needs to get a cell phone!) I am too lazy to research medical facts in-depth, so, here's me, running with those twisted medical facts. ***

"You hafta know how well I know you, right? You don't need to tell me when something's wrong, I just know, I will always know." Sam set a pan of hot water on the floor, reaching for Dean's left hand as he sat down on the bed. "God, it scares me sometimes how well I know you." he gave a short laugh. "And what kicks me in the ass, is you don't even know it." he pinched and squeezed Dean's fingers on both hands, relieved when his reflexes, while slow, were normal. "Wanna hear how well I know you?" he curled Dean's fingers towards his palm, grinning when Dean kept his hands fisted. "I'll tell you."

Dean didn't move.

"You think I'm selfish. You think that I just do whatever I want, that I don't care. I dunno, maybe it's all those years of being told I'm a girl, being teased for wanting to talk and you always blowing me off...but, that's a cop-out huh? That's the Sammy way, blame you for what I've done wrong." he unwrapped the wet bandage as he spoke. Knew he'd be doing a lot of talking while he tended to his brothers hands. He had to, had to keep his mind busy, otherwise, he'd be having another melt down.

No movement.

"You've never truly believed me when I've told you I would do anything for you, but dammit Dean, I would kill anyone who stood in my way of getting you back. It's you, not the world, I've died to defend." the soaked gauze was easy to remove. "And I would again…" he stopped when Dean gave a weak tug against Sam's hold with a murmur of protest. "Ssh, ssh, you're ok." he soothed, thumb rubbing circles on the back of Dean's hand until he was quiet. "Okay? That's it, just relax Dean." he set the pan up on the nightstand and reached for the wash cloth.

Soft grunt.

"And I know you always felt that I could just walk away from you, that I have, but that just isn't true. Leaving you to go to school was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. And it wasn't you I wanted to be away from. Cried myself sick for months. Made myself so sick that I...yeah well, in the past, right? I wanted a normal life, but I always thought you'd be part of it." the wash cloth was on the soft side but as he started dabbing and rubbing, it tugged against the abused skin, causing Dean to flinch in protest. "Sorry, sorry, just…hey….." he left off until Dean relaxed. "Guess that hurts, huh?" this was why he needed the surgical scissors, he could snip off the loose flaps of skin instead of trying to work around them. "Okay? Huh? You okay now?" he gently started with the wash cloth again.

"How the fuck you ever thought I was gonna be ok after you left….were taken….gone, whatever, and you did, you honestly thought that. I mean, Jesus Dean, the one thing in my life, the only thing I'd always had, was about to be ripped away from me and you just patted me on the head like…oh well., it's Sammy, he'll go back to school. Did you know losing you killed me? Seeing you torn apart right in front of me and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it made me a suicidal drunk for months...you gotta admit...when you got back, I wasn't the same. I was never the same."

"You think the drive for revenge is what changed me but it wasn't. No, what hurt, was realizing you thought I wouldn't care, that I could just let you go and live a life that didn't have you in it because I had before. You left me, you left Dean and I had no one, so tell me, who's the selfish one? Yeah, I blamed you for that but god, I never hated you for it." the cuffs had torn deep, the damage Sam was able to see made him sick to his stomach, but the dirt and mud wasn't ground into the wounds, was surface debris and most of it was easy to wash off.

Dean was becoming more restless, not as willing to lay still and Sam was no longer able to calm him down with a touch or a few gently spoken words. He had another wrist to go and he glanced at the clock, mentally tracking how much longer Suzie would be.

"Lying to you all those months, telling you no, refusing to do what you asked while I was after Lilith, ate me alive and what happened? Could say I ended the world." he re-bandaged the wrist to contain the bleeding until Suzie returned. "I shudda known what it was doing to you, hell, I probably did. Didn't care though, you know why? I can forgive Cas because no matter what he's done to me, he gave you back to me. I was never gonna stop until Lilith was dead, she took you away from me."

"Scary huh, what I'll do for you?" he moved to the other side of the bed. The bleeding didn't appear to be seeping through the newly applied bandage. Encouraged by that bit of good news, he tackled the right wrist, then pushed Dean off his side onto his stomach and began tending his back.

"I tried, you know, wasn't myself, not that I knew that. I didn't want...…thought I could stay away...and I did, well, I managed not to let you know I was back anyway and I told myself everything was okay but the moment I knew you were in danger, all that mattered was...I had to have you with me and fuck it all, Dean, that was all without a soul. I didn't know emotions, couldn't feel sympathy or affection or love but the thought of you not being here...again drove me insane." as he suspected, the damage to his back was not at all serious, was cause for discomfort not pain and his heart lightened a bit.

"I learned a few things about myself, you know. Found out that while I could leave you for several years, it was because you were only a phone call away, were never far, and would come if I needed you. Found out my hatred of hunting, my desire for a normal life, my belief that I could walk away…..none of that was stronger than….you."

The scrapes and scratches and abrasions on his back were not deep or at risk for infection. His coat had offered enough protection to avoid serious injury. The damage was mostly to his upper back and across his shoulders, meaning, movement would be painful for a week or so but would be manageable. Sam was able to sufficiently clean it with the anti-bacterial soap and generously rub in the bacterial ointment. Dean flinched on occasion, drawing away a time or two, but put up no effort of a fight.

"And now? God, now, every day I manage to wake up and get out of bed, to keep going, to fight what's going on inside my head, to function, for you. If you weren't here, if I didn't have you….." he carded his fingers through his brother's hair in search of any lump or swelling that may now be evident but to his relief, found nothing. "I can't do that again."

"Someone tried to take you away from me. I don't know who, I don't know why, I don't know what their intentions were but they did this to you and they are not going to get away with it." he buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms against his eyes. He wanted a drink, needed to fortify his resolve to do what came next but needed to be clear-headed and steady of hand. Knew either he had to do it or he had to take Dean to a hospital. Pain would be a distant memory, scars would fade, but loss of use in either hand would be permanent.

***000***

"Pick." Sam ordered, holding Dean flat on his back with his palm against Dean's shoulder who wasn't taking the suturing well at all. Sam risked a glance down at him, felt his stomach knot, a face so white he could count the freckles stared back at him, eyes liquid pools of misery. Dean had managed to lay still while Sam snipped and cut loose skin away on both hands; had tolerated first, the bubbling sensation of hydrogen peroxide, then the sting of rubbing alcohol but once Sam started digging around with the forceps in search of any foreign matter/debris, Suzie had held him down.

Sam knew the dangers and advice against cleansing such deep wounds with peroxide but lacking a syringe large enough to irrigate the wounds properly, had decided to go ahead and risk it. Even a dosage of lidocaine wasn't enough for Dean to handle Sam trimming damaged tissue and that was when Sam had asked Suzie to retrieve and administer a sedative from the first aid kit.

"Dilaudid? Avelox?" Suzie was rooting through the first aid kit. "Where did you get all this?" she demanded. "Jesus Christ Sam, no doctor prescribed this!" she held up a bottle of Ativan in one hand and a bottle of Propofol in the other, waving them in his face as though he had no idea what they were. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to mix…..?"

"Pick one." Sam growled. He wasn't happy over the need to sedate Dean but he couldn't chance having Dean fight him. Head injury or not….it was a chance he would take. He needed Dean to lie still while he set the stitches.

"How did you get this?"

"Dammit Suzie! Pick one and shoot him up or get the hell out of my way and I'll take care of it myself!"

"How?" had she been thinking clearly she would have realized they wouldn't have had the syringes and vials in a first aid kit if they didn't know how to administer the medicine. "Sam, come on, you can't…"

"I can fill a syringe, find his freaking vein and inject him with my god-damn eyes closed." Sam bit out; his patience wearing thin. He was tired of seeing his brother in pain, was sick over the fact he was the one causing it and was anxious to get it done and over with.

"He needs a doctor! You can't just give him….."

Sam took a deep breath, digging deep for control, now was not the time to have another melt down. "Suzie, you need to listen to me….okay? We both get hurt. We get injuries we can't run to the ER for. If there's one thing I excel at, it's research. I know more about every drug and medicine in that kit than you ever will."

"But Sam, there are other medications that would serve….."

"We don't have other medications! For the love of God Suzie, I would never harm my brother! I know what he can handle; I know what dosage to give him!"

Wouldn't harm him? What did he call shaking him until he passed out? Dragging him out of bed and leaving him alone, dizzy and unsteady in the shower where he could have fallen and injured himself further? Hauling him up of the floor and throwing him back into bed? "Sam, I don't doubt your intentions are good, but that doesn't excuse the fact you have no medical…."

"The internal stitches will be dissolvable. Even though the wounds are jagged and uneven, I left enough skin to stitch. I know what I'm doing Suzie. He still has good blood circulation to all his fingers, still has muscle coordination and full use of his hands, if he didn't, we wouldn't be here, now pick one!"

"ALL RIGHT!" she yelled. "OK! Okay, just…..ok, how well does he come out of sedation?"

"Maybe some nausea, a headache…..won't matter, he won't be going anywhere."

Suzie held Sam's eyes for another moment, then put down the bottle of Propofol and picked up the syringe. "Which arm?"

"Left."

***000***

"Sam, you need to get some sleep." Suzie squeezed his shoulder. "You can take my room. I'll wake you up in say, two hours? If he…."

"No." he shook his head but didn't raise it. "It's ok. I won't kick you out of your own room."

"You, aah, don't really fit on the sofa." she grinned. "It's fine for a nap, but you need to…"

"I'm fine." he sat with his elbows crossed on his knees, leaning forward with his forehead on his arms. "I'll lay down when I get tired."

She frowned. "Where?…You mean..." comprehension dawned on her. "In here?" she glanced at Dean. He wasn't settled, hadn't been even with the sedative. Even though he hadn't completely awakened, he was not asleep by natural means. Sam hadn't said anything, but she knew he was waiting and watching for signs that Dean was running a fever. "I'll get a sleeping bag to pad the floor and some blankets."

She didn't question his choice as she made up a bed on the floor, next to the bed in which Dean slept. Well, she shook the pillow into a fresh pillowcase and cast a look at the bed, tossed about in would be more accurate. She doubted anything she said or did would get Sam out of that room until Dean was through the worst of the ordeal Sam had subjected him to and sleeping peacefully on his own.

"Dean, here...drink." Sam was coaxing softly. "You're probably dehydrated, and even if you're not, you lost enough blood that I'll feel better if you drink even if you don't, okay?" he sat down on the chair, pulling it closer to the bed, glass of flavored sports drink in one hand, glass of water in the other. "Dean, come on, refusal isn't an option you get to choose."

Sam blinked, thumbing his eyes when Dean continued to ignore him. He couldn't handle being denied what he wanted, what he felt his brother needed. He'd pretty much been with Dean twenty-four/seven for months now, knew his brother was exhausted, knew it because the man slept for an hour maybe two, at the most. He didn't go to bed, just took a nap wherever he happened to be whenever his body demanded it. Add to that, he mostly drank whatever meal he happened to remember to eat….and he could guess Dean had done nothing but drink since he came to this town, didn't matter that he could hold his liquor, coupled with the blood loss…..

"Do you think getting him to drink is a good idea right now?" she interrupted his musings to ask hesitatingly. "Might make him sick when he wakes up."

"I won't give him a lot, just..."

"Lie down and get some sleep." she said. "You need me, just call for me, okay?"


	14. Chapter 14

"Dean, hey come on…" he was tired and his emotions were out of control. Dean had begun to stir when Sam had rubbed ointment on the second wrist but hadn't woken and Sam wanted him coherent before he gave him anything to help with the pain. The entire process of cleaning and cleansing and stitching and bandaging both wrists had taken hours and unless disturbed, he expected Dean to sleep until morning. "Okay, fine."

He could force Dean awake, hold him up and push him into drinking but he had neither the strength nor the stomach to put his brother through anything more that night. Sam needed sleep; he was so tired he was shaking. He eyed the pile of blankets on top of the sleeping bag longingly; no bed had ever looked so comfortable.

He looked back at Dean, who was restless and uneasy, signs that he had slept off the sedative. He sat in the chair for another fifteen minutes but Dean didn't awaken, not even after Sam pushed him over and settled him on his stomach, so Sam deemed it safe to seek his own comfort.

If the reason he gave Suzie for pulling the sleeping bag and blankets away from the bed and over to the wall was he'd been taught never to leave his back unprotected, he doubted she would know he was lying to her face and if she did, he didn't care. There was no way he was going to lay down and not be able to keep an eye on his brother.

They day had been long and stressful and he was both mentally and physically exhausted, completely drained actually. He doubted Dean would have a good night and he knew he should get some sleep while he could. He probably should eat something; he looked at the clock, after ten. The last he'd eaten had been a ham sandwich sometime earlier that day. He thought about getting a glass of milk and some bread with peanut butter but he couldn't motivate himself to do more than plop down on the sleeping bag, face the bed and let his head rest against the wall. He'd just close his eyes until they stopped burning and no longer felt full of sand then he'd go in search of something to eat.

He had more to worry about then when or what he ate. Dean could, probably would, run a fever. Sam hoped he was strong enough to prevent the infection from taking a firm hold, hoped the antibiotics they had would help him fight it. He prayed that no severe swelling set in and Dean would continue to have full movement in both hands.

The biggest and most immediate problem to worry about was Dean waking up. Two hours or so, and he should begin showing signs of coming around. Sedating him with a possible head injury had been stupid but Sam hadn't had a choice. One wrong move or too strong a jerk from Dean while he'd been setting those stitches and there could have been permanent, irreversible damage to his hands.

Sam massaged his temples with his fingers tips. This kind of shit didn't happen to other people. Why him? When Dean had gone by himself to the ER for stitches, nothing had happened. Yet let Sam come to town and danger ran amuck.

Logically, Sam knew he wasn't the reason his brother had been hurt nor was he the reason he couldn't take Dean to a hospital for proper medical treatment. But then, logic had never been a friend to Sam Winchester and he couldn't help but feel responsible for the situation. Trouble followed him everywhere he went and his brother was the one who usually ended up paying the price.

He didn't like making the decision he'd been forced to. On one hand he was grateful he knew as much about first aid and medical care as he did. On the other, all it served to do was put his brother through pain and misery. Sam had chosen what he felt was the better of two options. He'd decided to treat his brother rather than take him to the ER. He'd rather his brother shed a few tears then try to remove him from the hospital before law enforcement could arrest him.

With a brother like Dean in his life, he should have studied pre-med instead of pre-law. There was rarely a time when he needed to legally defend Dean, but he was always tending some injury or another, either on his brother or on himself.

Okay, a short nap, check on the Impala, get something to eat, take a hot shower, make sure the stitches weren't oozing blood or puss, check for swelling, and go to bed.

Sam lay down with a grin, punching his pillow into a plump lump. Dean wasn't going to be happy when he woke up and was cognizant enough to hold a conversation and realize what had been done to him. He would throw a fit when he found out that Sam had splinted his hands to prevent him from bending them. Wait until he discovered just how limited he would be with his hands immobilized. Maybe it was time to pack him up and head out to meet up somewhere with Bobby because once Dean realized he wouldn't be able to hold a gun, there'd be no living with him.

If Dean wasn't awake and talking and able to comprehend what had happened by dawn, Sam would take him to an ER no more than a two-hour drive away.

***000***

Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, oh-good-fucking-God-waking up was a mistake, breathing was a big mistake, trying to open his eyes was a serious mistake, waking up was a god-damn mistake and trying to move was a fucking mistake. The vise holding his head painfully to the mattress drove spikes into the back of his skull until the pain became so great he knew no more.

When he came-to again, he remembered his weak attempt to lift his head had been unsuccessful so he lay still, afraid to move, trying desperately to recall when he'd been hit by a mac truck.

Quick flashes of memories caused the pounding in his head to increase. Sam dragging him out of bed, Sam forcing him into a shower, Sam shaking him, lying against the tub, dragged up from the floor, tossed on the bed, Sam yelling at him, Sam demanding answers, Sam fisting his hand and…there was no possible way Sam was the reason he felt like he did. He knew that, he believed that, yet he couldn't stop his breathing from increasing to a heavy pant as a memory of being held down by Sam with what might have been a knife in his hand made the room spin and consciousness to abandon him.

The time he woke up, reality was making a strong demand to be acknowledged. Each time he woke up, he was awake longer, remembered more, knew more, was able to move just a bit more. He was in bed, on his stomach and he hurt. 

He worked one eye open, squinting as he blinked, waiting for his vision to clear. There was a smell of flowers again, and a wall. He was facing a wall. Biting his lip and screwing up his courage, he carefully, gingerly, slowly turned his face the opposite way without lifting his head from the mattress. Once he had control of his breathing, he opened his other eye and waited to see what was within his limited sight.

A comfy looking armchair close to the bed and…..empty. Close enough that had someone been sitting in it, they would have been able to reach out and touch him. He tried and failed to lift his head. Least this time the attempt didn't cause him to pass out, just made him dizzy and nauseous. Shifting his head slightly on the mattress gave him a different view from the corner of his eye. The strain of holding the gaze was too great to hold, but he'd seen enough before he passed out.

Sam amid a pile of blankets on the floor.

The next time he woke up, he couldn't stop his body's natural response to pain, the trauma it had experienced and waking from the last lingering effects of sedation. Nausea slammed him with such force; all he could do was whimper, fingers clawing for a grip on the mattress, trying to clench the sheets as he wrestled with keeping the meager contents of his stomach where they belonged.

He lay still, until he felt his muscles relax and the shaking eased, his body breaking out in a sweat from the exertion of trying to gain control. He still felt sick, but by moving slowly and carefully, he was able to lift his head off the mattress and when neither dizziness nor nausea assaulted him, he moved to sit up.

Sam jolted awake at the howl of pain that vibrated off the walls. He was crawling on his hands and knees, gaining his feet as he heard Suzie in the hallway. He stumbled into the chair, stubbing his socked covered toes against the leg, cursing as his knees knocked against the bed.

"Dean, stop….I've gotcha." Sam slid his hands under Dean's armpits and picked him up off his hands, Dean had tried to sit up by pushing himself up with his hands against the mattress. He remained on his knees, not fighting the arms that held him, hugging him as he stared in wide-eyed horror at his hands; his swollen, white, grotesquely misshapen hands.

He yelped in dismay, he had no fingers! Where were his fingers? He started to use one hand to touch the other but was distracted by something blue and plastic that dug into his palm, preventing him from turning his hand. He twisted his head around to question Sam, eyes begging for him to make it all better.

"No, no, whoa, hold up." hands stopped his movement. Dean tugged irritably against the hand that held his elbow. "Dean, stop. Hey." a cool hand massaged his neck. "Hey, hey, hey…..no,no,no,no-don't do that." a hand closed overtop his fingers, forcing him to curl them out of a fist on one hand, then the other. "Take it easy…..ok? You need to lay down…no, no, don't move your head either, just breathe through it….come on, Dean, hey, you don't want to be sick…okay, yeah, that's it, put your head down and close your eyes."

Sam guided him down on to his stomach with his hand on his neck. Dean wasn't trying to move away from him, his flinches and jerks were reactions to his body's growing alertness. "SShhhsshhhshush." Sam still spoke softly. "No…don't grab anything….that'll only make it worse…that's it….right, keep your hands flat."

"Owwwww." Dean groaned into the mattress. "Uurrghh!." his pitiful moan caused Sam to wince in sympathy. "Sammy…..I don't…got…..where're my fingers?"

"Right here, you can wiggle them, see? They're there…you're ok Dean, it's just a reaction from being sedated….you know how you hate that, right?"

"All…white…."

"Yeah, they are. Your hands are bandaged…"

It had taken longer than Sam was happy with, but Dean was awake and fighting through the nausea and pain. Long as time was all he needed not to vomit or start screaming, Sam would give him all he needed. "Need you to roll over." he poked at him when Dean had come out on top of the nausea.

"Heh?…ain't gonna." with his face buried in the mattress, his voice was muffled but Sam understood him and grinned, glancing over at Suzie who hovered in the doorway. "Go-way-Sam-mmmeee, uhg…don't wanna."

"Yeah, well, you're gonna. Awesome as you are, even you can't drink lying on your belly."

"Dr-ink? I…don't….wanna…a…drink." each word was slurred; Sam frowned, wondering if it were due to still being groggy or something more serious.

"Doesn't matter what you want." Sam gave his neck a gentle squeeze; Dean gave a growl of protest. "You need liquids, lots of liquids…and antibiotics and if you eat something, maybe some pain meds."

"Not gonna….eat….nothing….dumb ass."

"Not now." Sam agreed with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, roll over."

"No." he instinctively reached to grab hold of the edges of the mattress, stopping with another howl of pain. "Ow." he whispered achingly, causing Sam to grimace.

"Smart move there, Dean."

"Son-uv-a-bitch!" he curled up on his side, hands pulled to his chest. "My…..hands…hurt."

"Yeah, 'fraid they're gonna for a while."

"What'd I do?" bewilderment laced his tone.

"You're ok…." Sam sighed, much as he wanted to start Dean on liquids, it appeared he would have to wait. "Go back to sleep, okay?"

"K." he heard Sam talking softly as his arm was pried away from his chest and a sleeve was worked over his hand. He ducked his head as he was bodily raised up from the mattress but the shirt came across his back, not down over his head and his other hand was worked into the sleeve. Since when did Sammy have four arms? "Lemme 'lone."

"Shut up." Sam let him lay back down. There was no need to zip the hoodie, he was satisfied with Dean's arms and back covered. He'd picked out a Henley, but it was obvious the sleeves wouldn't fit over the bandaged, splinted wrists and there was no way he was going to un-wrap Dean's hand just to get a shirt on him. Not when the zippered hoodie was large enough for him to get on Dean.

"Sam, you doing okay?" Suzie picked up the pillow he'd tossed aside when he'd been awakened. "You sleep all night?"

"No, been keeping him quiet, he wasn't settled." he ran his hands through his hair. "He'd open his eyes, but didn't wake up, you know? I was giving him until six, if he hadn't woken up, I was gonna take him to the hospital over near Billings."

"That's two hours away."

"Not far enough." Sam muttered. "Not from this fucked up town."

"How are his hands?"

"Okay, checked them twice."

"You gonna be ok here? I have to go to work. I don't want anyone to suspect anything, you know?"

"You don't mind if we stay?"

"Not at all, you….aah, you think he's ok?" she gave Dean a dubious look. "His fingers are swollen, how long have they been like that?"

"Just since he put his weight on them when he woke up." Sam winced, that was his fault. Had he been awake, he would have been able to prevent Dean from doing that. "Yeah, he'll be fine…..could you stop at the store before you come home? I'll make a list and get you some money."

"There's some ice in the freezer, I'll bring more home with me. I get off at 3:30, so I'll be home by 5.. Here's my cell. If you need me, need anything, call me."

***000***

"Dean? You want this?" Sam held up the syringe

Dean held his arm out, more than willing to take the sedative. Once he slept, Sam took a shower, made breakfast and sat down to enjoy it while he booted up his laptop to send Bobby an email. Soon as he felt Dean could handle riding in the car, even if it meant he had to lay down on the backseat, they were getting the hell outta this town. Once he had Dean tucked up safe with Bobby to baby-sit him, he would return and find out just what the hell had happened.

"Hey there." Sam laid a hand on the trunk of the Impala, almost, not quite, a caress. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see you." a goofy grin on his face, he popped the trunk and removed Dean's duffel. A quick inventory revealed nothing was missing, nothing had even been touched. "This is our secret. Don't go telling Dean I've been talking to you."

With a last look at the car, he went back inside the house.

Dean eased onto his back, not wanting anything to do with Sam but Sam was insistent. He didn't know how long Sam had let him sleep, but it hadn't been long enough.

"Dean, hey, come on….it's grape." Sam offered. "Sorry, it's what she had in the fridge and you need the sugar and electrolytes"

"Can't I have…orange?" he lifted his head and the room spun, forcing him to close his eyes with a weary groan.

"There isn't any and if I had my choice, it wouldn't even be PowerAde." Sam waited. "You're going to drink it Dean, you've had your own way long enough." his knee began to bounce in agitation. "You lost a lot of blood, not enough for me to make you go to the ER, but enough that I'm gonna force you to drink every couple of hours for the next three days or so. You were on your own for three days and without me around to bug you, I'm sure all you did was guzzle alcohol."

"What's…this?" he waved one hand about. "I can't….move….my hand….Sam."

"Just a precaution." Sam assured him. "Took me all damn day to stitch them up, you so much as tear out one stitch and I'll kick your ass. And your fingers work so don't bitch. Now come on, I ain't going away until you drink this."

"But I can't bend my wrists." he complained.

"I don't want you to."

"But how am I supposed to do anything?" he pouted. "Take the splints off." he thrust both hands towards Sam.

"No."

"You can leave the bandages on…..but I can't hold the glass with these damn plastic shoe horns you have wedged…."

"Guess, you'll just have to accept some help." Sam smirked. "Do you want to sit up?"

"God, no." he scowled at the cup Sam offered. He tried to take it from him, but while his fingers were able to grasp it, he couldn't make his hands hold it. "This is humiliating." he muttered.

"Oh, you think this is bad?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	15. Chapter 15

Dean's fierce glare directed at his brother only made the younger man laugh outright. "Dude, that would be more effective if you didn't have to have me hold the cup so you can drink from it."

"Fuck you." he threw his head back against the pillow in frustration. Much as he wanted to flip his brother off and refuse his help, he didn't need Sam to tell him what he had to do to aid his own recovery. A second later, he went white, sweat beading on his forehead as his head took delight in telling him what it thought of him tossing it about.

"Dean?" Sam's laughter abruptly turned to concern. "Gonna be sick? I'd rather you not…" he grabbed the small plastic pail Suzie had provided him with for just this purpose, as Dean rolled on to his side, head hanging off the mattress. He hadn't had anything to eat in the last twenty-four hours, little to drink, and Sam winced in sympathy as Dean choked on dry heaving, struggling to get on top of the dizziness that had caused him to lose the battle with the nausea.

"See what you get?" Sam sat back down in the chair, having gone to the bathroom for a cloth wet with cold water. "In case you don't remember, let me tell you…again….for the third time…you lost a lot of blood. I sedated you, twice. You haven't eaten properly in a week, you're probably dehydrated and oh yeah, I sewed your wrists up from the inside out." he held the cloth to the back of Dean's neck, squeezing gently when Dean allowed the touch. "But, yeah, you go ahead and give me lip."

"Sammy…gawd….I feel….awful…." he groaned, head lying flat on the mattress, eyes closed. "Shshhhshiiittt."

"Dunno why." Sam commented dryly. "Trauma, pain, infection, sedation, loss of blood….."

"You-freaking-say-that-one more...uggh-time, and I'm gonna, Christ,-knock-mmmm-you the hell out." Dean started to raise a hand then stopped and shrugged a shoulder up so he could wipe the sweat from his face. "Nag, nag, nag." he grumbled.

"Since you're feeling well enough to threaten me, you must feel up to telling me what happened."

"Huh? Can't…hear you Sammy, ears are ringing."

"I bet." Sam muttered but was content to let the subject drop. Dean would be in a better condition to talk after he'd had a day or so of sleep, plenty of liquids and maybe something to eat. Sam would try forcing some soup on him around suppertime. He'd wait for Suzie to return with the groceries he'd asked her to pick up. If he had any hope of enticing his brother to eat, it would need to be food he liked. "K, come on, gotta drink and stop bitching that it's grape…you can have orange later."

"What's wrong with…..?" he sighed. "Can't I just have water?" he caught sight of his sleeve, frowning as he patted his chest with his fingers. "What the…..?" the look he shot at his brother was both questioning and accusatory.

"Yeah, well, deal with it." Sam wasn't about to put up with Dean sulking over what he was wearing. "Your clothes were in the car, the shirt you had on when Suzie found you was washed but the sleeves wouldn't fit over the bandages."

"I had a t-shirt….." he stopped, oh yeah, that had been Sam's as well. "Oh….can I have water?"

"You can, if fact, you will, but after you drink this." Sam helped him sit up enough he could drink from the cup and waited while Dean tried again to figure out how to hold the cup and drink from it.

"I need a straw." he gave up in disgust and let Sam hold the cup for him. "You shudda brought a straw." he glared at the grin that tugged at Sam's mouth. "Iffin I had a straw, I wouldn't need you." he muttered. "Prick, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I'll find one." Sam promised. "Come on, all of it, then some water. I don't think it's a good idea to knock you out again, but I'll give you some pain meds, they'll probably pull you under for most of the day….okay?"

"Dude, don't go getting used to this." Dean huffed indignantly. "I'll use my teeth if I hafta, but I'll be getting out of these stupid splints." he waggled his fingers. "You can't watch me all the time."

"Sure Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Go to sleep."

"How bad?" Dean asked quietly. He remembered pretty much everything that had happened since being taken from the Sheriff's car but no need to let Sam know that just yet.

"Cudda been a lot worse." Sam admitted. "Yeah, you shredded skin all to hell, but no bleeders. Fuck, if you'd torn anything or cut into veins, I wudda had to take you to the ER. I can stitch, I can't repair."

"You...doin, okay?" he eyed him warily. "You holding up?" Sam was pale, had dark circles under his eyes, but appeared to be holding it together.

"Dean, relax, I'm fine." he held up a bottle and gave it a shake. "Pain meds. You want?"

Dean slept all day. Sam was right; pain meds knocked him out as easily as sedatives did. Sam roused him every hour and a half to verbally batter him into drinking more than he wanted. By late afternoon, Dean was cross and cranky and not just because Sam kept waking him up.

"What the hell are you? Freaking nurse?" Dean snapped crossly as his head was lifted and a straw poked against his lips.

"Shit Sammy, I don't get woken up this much in the hospital, lemme alone!"

"I warned you." Sam ignored him, tightening his grip when Dean attempted to jerk his head away. "Keep doing that and you'll be hanging off the bed again." he shifted the weight of Dean's head and reached for his jaw with a thumb. "Dean?" he frowned, feeling the warmth coming from his cheek. "Okay, man, you gotta eat something, 'k?"

"What? NO! Not ok!" he growled. "Get away from me…..you pansy….geesch!"

"Some crackers maybe? Suzie's not home yet, how about toast?" wow, Dean must really be feeling like crap if pansy was the best he could come up with. "Gimme your hand, hey...Dean, knock it off!" he finally wrestled Dean's arm to the mattress. "Hold still, just gonna unwrap it."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean moaned in misery. "I don't want anything to eat Sam! Go-A-Way."

"Your hand is infected. I thought maybe it would be ok, you know? Not get any worse, but you're running a fever and the stitches are inflamed and oozing...that means I gotta start you on antibiotics and you know how you react to…Cipro…"

"Blah, blah, blah….you're babbling." he paused. "Wait, what? Cee-pro? No, no, no, no, nuh-huh Sam…..none of that crap, I threw it out. Gimme….the Valtrex."

"You thought you did." Sam corrected. "And you don't have shingles or herpes. You're going to take either Cipro or Cepha, your choices are limited….would be better if you had something in your belly, but if you insist…."

"What about Avelox…..?"

"You have an infected wound, not pneumonia."

"Caused by bacteria, come on Sammy…please? I hate Cipro, or rather, it hates me….."

"It's what we have the most of, so…toast or crackers?"

"Toast." he muttered dejectedly, seeing no way to win the argument. It didn't matter if Sam was right, had Dean been strong enough to fight, he would have resisted his brother's attempts to make him eat and take the antibiotics. "What now?" he didn't need to open his eyes to see his brothers face to know he was chewing on his lip, mentally weighing a decision. "Sam...you said toast…"

"Yeah, no, no, I mean, yeah I'll go make it…..but….um…how's the…..you know, pain?" Sam didn't want him mixing pain meds with antibiotics and felt the infection was more important to treat and wondered if Dean could get by on Tylenol.

"How's the…?" he stuttered. "Are you freaking kidding me?" his voice was shrill but he didn't care.

"It's just…I don't…dammit Dean, I don't think you should mix pain meds with antibiotics. Do you think maybe you could, you know, get by on Tylenol?"

"Tylenol? Tylenol? Are you….? Jesus Christ! You really do hate me, don't you?"

"It's extra strength." Sam offered eagerly, wanting to offer comfort. "I'd say ibuprofen, but when I looked at your wrists earlier, the stitches were oozing blood, not a lot, the bleeding was minimal and you haven't complained of any itching yet and there's no severe swelling, but…."

"Whatever Sam." he'd had enough. He wasn't up to arguing and it was just easier to give in and let the kid have his way. "But you wake me up again and I will knock you the fuck out." he obediently opened his mouth and swallowed all four pills with some water. "See how good your sewing skills hold up then."

"I'll get the toast."

The next time Sam woke him up, Suzie was with him. He was groggy and Sam had to beg to get his attention focused on him.

"He still warm?" Suzie asked. "I can see he's flushed from over here."

"Yeah, he's ok though." Sam coaxed him into drinking some Gatorade. It was orange, a flavor Dean preferred and he even drank a second glass. Sam frowned, happy that Dean was willing to drink, but concerned because he was thirsty. "See what kind of night he has. If his fever goes up or those stitches ooze puss or develop redness or itching, I'll head out with him, find an ER on our way."

Dean's eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused as he watched Sam, but he didn't speak and once he slept, Sam followed Suzie out to the kitchen.

"You sure you want to wait until morning?"

"Been through this before." Sam bit into an apple. "He's rarely hung over but experience the morning after has taught me to flood him with water and get him to drink Gatorade...it works the best, well, for him anyway."

"But Sam, he's not coming off a drinking binge."

"Not this time." Sam agreed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been with him nearly my whole life Sue. I've dealt with blood loss, serious injury, illness...I know how to take care of him, what he needs, what's best for him. I know what medications to give him and how they affect him. I know it's not a good idea to have him on both pain meds and antibiotics. He can suck it up and fight through pain, an infection will take him down. If I have to give him both, I will. He'll be in misery for a couple days...probably will be anyway; he has an adverse reaction to antibiotics."

"Ok, yeah, loss of blood is a reason for dehydration, but there are other concerns as well Sam."

"I know." Sam tossed the apple core. "I don't want to make him ride in the car until he can sit up without getting dizzy. I want him strong enough to walk to the bathroom on his own without weakness forcing him to rest half way there. I want the infection either gone or under control enough he can come off the antibiotics. And I don't want him running a fever at all."

"Okay." she agreed. "But if either hand oozes brown blood or green puss or if the stitches are warm to touch or he runs a fever over a 102, you take him in."

"Agreed." he nodded, relieved that's all she insisted on, once she found out how well Dean responded to Cipro, she'd be railing at Sam for being insensitive and uncaring. If he had to allow Dean the pain meds as well, she'd likely tear Sam a new asshole.

***000***

When he finally was strong enough to get up on his own and hold a conversation, his first words sent Sam into a fit.

"I'm sorry." Sam stumbled against the counter, milk sloshing out of the cup, sure he hadn't heard right. Leave it to Dean to wait until he was distracted to blind side him with his stupid announcement. "You want to what? ARE you COMPLETELY out of your MIND or are you just temporarily fucked up?"

"Oh and what? Your plan is better?" Dean scoffed. "Leave me with Bobby while you come back here on your own? Yeah, awesome plan there Sammy."

"Jesus Dean, you can't…" first time out of bed in four days and already tearing down Sam's coping defenses.

"You're not going after them on your own. There's no reason good enough for you to do that."

"How about, you're still weak and dizzy from loss of blood. How about the skin on your wrists has been stripped raw and wiping your ass makes them bleed. How about there is an unlimited amount of bacteria and fungus that breeds on open wounds to feed the infection you already have in your wrists that, OH YEAH, have been filleted!"

"I'm fine Sam! No open wounds! Took you all day to stitch me up! Remember?" he flapped his hands in Sam's face. "And it's your fault I made them bleed, I told you I didn't want the damn Cipro, but oh no! Sir Sammy has to have his way."

"Seriously? You want to go there?" he began to wipe the spilt milk up with paper towels. "We are not having this fight now."

"Ain't looking for a fight and neither wrist has popped a stitch or bled through the bandages."

"You still can't bend them." Sam pointed out.

"You won't let me!"

"Two weeks Dean, two weeks before the internal stitches dissolve. You're not doing anything until then."

"Says you."

"That's right."

"You don't even know who you're after."

"You seriously think that will stop me?" Sam snorted. "How little you know me."

"Oh, I know you all right." Dean countered with a sneer. "You didn't handle any of this, did you? You freaked out."

"You're hale and hearty, aren't you?"

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, eyes bugging out. "Jesus Sam, you nearly choked Suzie unconscious. I seem to remember being dragged all over the god damn place! Out of bed, down the hall, off the floor! And HELLO, you yelled at me, you shook me, you dumped me….."

"Dumped you? Dumped you! When? When was that Dean?"

"In the SHOWER!" Dean yelled. "Where I never should have been left alone!"

"That you remember." his tone was derisive.

"I ain't obediently following you to wherever you see fit to leave me."

"I'm not abandoning you."

"Damn right you're not."

Sam faced his obstinate brother, hands fisted at his sides. "Not drooling here Dean." he threw his arms wide. "I'm gonna lose it. You don't want to tell me what happened, fine, don't." he eyed Dean's wrists; they were both still splinted, much to Dean's displeasure. "You can't hold a gun, you're still in pain, you're still fighting that infection, kicking a fever around, you won't do me much good in a fight."

"Let this go Sam." Dean warned. "You're not going after anyone."

"Someone drove the Sheriff off the road and took you…they took you Dean, from his car. They had you for three hours, you don't need to tell me what they did, I know. They dragged you on your back, by the chain attached to the cuffs. You were gone, you left me without a word.….DON'T." he pointed a finger at Dean's nose when his mouth flapped opened and closed. "Don't you dare throw in my face that I've done it to you." he swallowed back his rising outrage. God, he needed to get a grip and calm down. Keep talking, just keep talking, don't pen it up….let it out….keep talking, no need to panic.

"Sam…" Dean began.

"And I couldn't find you. I chased you all over this fucked-up town, dudes with pierced knuckles and babes in pink boots and the giant with no neck and Cookie the cuckoo with the battle axe at the hospital and let's not forget Weeble the Wobbler who freaking sang to me. He sang to me! You didn't even meet the four foot troll who stood on a chair to get in my face. I went through all that Dean, looking for you, not knowing what happened, not knowing what to think, only to find out someone took you….god…..took you…and hurt you…..and some girl from your past leaves me a voicemail from your phone and I go against every fiber of my being and meet her only to come here and find you missing!"

"And that right there is why you aren't going after anyone." Dean pointed out. Sam was on verge of yet another meltdown. "Take a breath man, calm down!"

"Yeah, Dean, I freaked out! Who would blame me? I didn't know how bad you were hurt, I didn't know if you had a head injury, or how bad it was if you did. I had to decide whether or not to take to you to the ER or treat you myself. God, you had me so fucked up, you were bleeding and not with it and you kept passing out and it was easier to ignore you..." he took a deep breath. "I can't go through that again Dean, I can't and you can't ask me to! Letting you bleed, hurting you….losing my temper...you have no right to put me in that situation again!"

"Sam, you would never hurt me." how Sam ever believed he could was lost on Dean. It made him sick to think Sam lived with that fear. "You can't believe that."

"Right." he cleared his throat but the lump remained. He blinked, remembering how Dean had come out of the woods when he'd heard Sam calling his name, how he'd collapsed in Sam's arms, taking them both to the ground. That right there was proof of Dean's trust in him. It should be enough.

"Okay, not under your own will, then, how's that? That better?"

"No, dumb ass, it's not." he wiped at his eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"I called him." Suzie spoke up. "Three men were in town, asking a lot of questions about him. They knew who he was and what he did. They also knew he'd done a job here...…"

"A job?" Sam missed the look exchanged between Dean and Suzie, Dean nodding his thanks for Suzie's successful attempt in diverting Sam's attention. "When? We were together...have been since...well...since, you know...then."

"Yes." Suzie went on. "I called to warn him, not ask him to come here….they were asking everyone, said they were old friends, were looking him up, hadn't been able to find him, knew that he'd spent a couple of days in town with a girl…"

"You?"

Suzie nodded. "Yes."

"What did they want?"

"To know how to find him."

"And you come straight here to them?" Sam asked incredulously. "You couldn't call me first? Are you trying to drive me insane?"

"Pfftt." Dean blew him off with a wave. "There were only three of 'em Sam."

"Three what? Men? Demons? Ghouls?" he tugged at his hair. "God, you're going to turn every hair on my head grey before I'm thirty!" he moaned. "How did they find you? How did Suzie know to go after you?"

"I heard Weeble on the phone while they were in the ER." Suzie explained. "He was saying no one had come to the station looking for Dean nor had anyone approached him at the hospital. I knew then that they were still looking for him. When he hung up, I asked him how the Sheriff was doing, he said he didn't know, that he hadn't been talking to him."

"Who…." Sam began but Suzie held a hand up.

"Mrs. Simpkins."

"Who the hell is Mrs. Simpkins?"

"She works the desk over at county lock-up."

"County….? wait….Grama-with-an-attitude?"

"You didn't go to the court-house first to post bail. You went directly to lock up because you wanted to see him. I know because I went to the court-house looking for you. I didn't dare go into lock up because I didn't want anyone to know who I was or that I was the girl Dean had spent the weekend with."

Sam shook his head. "So what? You were just going to ask the Sheriff oh-so-nicely to let him go?"

"Dobbin has been the Sheriff for fifteen years. He knows what happened that weekend, he just doesn't know Dean was responsible for getting rid of the problem. All I would have had to do was explain it to him and he would have let Dean go."

"So, you came here on your own to do a job, without even bothering to tell me about it and left unfinished business. Oh and spend the weekend with a girl you'd just met?" yup, that sounded like Dean. "Eight months later three men come to town looking for you, this girl calls to warn you and you just ride in to save the day?"

"What? No!" Dean protested. "Wasn't like that at all Sam."

"So tell me what part I got wrong!" Sam was seething and Dean put the table between them. "What did they want, Dean? Why did you come here alone? I mean, the danger you willingly put yourself in scares the hell outta me. You're not stupid, so why? Make me understand."

"Feeling…..look, she was…I dunno, she called, and that weekend was…kinda felt right to be with someone, you know?"

"Are you saying this is my fault?" he wanted to throw something, not a punch but man, he was ready to blow. "You….."

"No, I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm saying, there was a job here and I came here to do it. It was a simple salt and burn."

"And now? Did you come merely to satisfy an itch?"

"Yeah, partly, what of it?" his own anger was beginning to spike. "And to find out who these guys were and what they wanted."

"And you couldn't call me to come back you up?" that was the base of Sam's anger. It hurt, made his gut burn, that his brother would just leave him, because if he could do it once, he could do it again. "So, did you?"

"No." Dean said steadily. "This is why you aren't going after them alone, you're ready to go ballistic Sam." he moved in front of Suzie when he realized Sam fixated on her. "You need to calm the fuck down."

"Girl, start talking, I want to know who Mrs. Simpkins is, why you're scared of her and then Dean, you're going to tell me everything that happened once they took you from the Sheriff's car." he pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'm listening and don't go whining about feeling sick or being too dizzy to talk because I'm not buying it."


	16. Chapter 16

"Sam, how about we don't do this now? Get some sleep, we'll talk when…."

"I don't need sleep, I need answers Dean. I'm trying here, really trying…if I could have left you….been able to bring myself to leave…..." he paused, needing a deep breath. "I'd already be out there after them…"

"Yeah ok, see, that's the problem, you can't just go after someone Sam."

"You're telling me you're ok with what they did to you?"

"NO! No, but you're in no condition to hunt Sam, you can't think clearly, you…..you, shit man, you….." he shook his head at Suzie when it appeared she was going to try to help him make Sam see reason. The 'let me handle this' look he shot her was clear, he didn't want her trying to help. "Look, we will go after them, okay? We will, but not now, it can't be now. You're right, I need full use of my hands and you need back up….ah-ah." Dean cut him off before he could voice the objection hovering on his tongue. "You don't have to like it, I don't expect you to, but Sam, come on."

"I'm not going to let them get away with this"

"And what will you do? Haven't you learned anything?"

"Don't." Sam got up to pace, needing to do something. "Don't twist this around and lay it at my feet Dean, don't you do that. I don't ask for much out of life, not happiness, not comfort. I don't expect my life to be easy or normal and I accepted long ago I'll never have what I want, but dammit, I need a reason to get up every morning. It can't be expectations of a home, a life, so I settle for what I do have and no one, not even you, is going to take that away from me, not again, not ever again."

"Every time you go off on some act of vengeance…..or go off in search of answers…..it always ends bad Sammy."

"FINE! Ok? FINE, all I'm asking for are answers, that's all." it's not what he wanted, but it's what he would settle for. What he wanted, now that Dean was doing better was to leave him with Bobby where he'd be safe and come back to town and do things his way. If that meant burning an innocent town to the ground, well, he just couldn't find it within himself at the moment to care. "Just talk to me Dean, just give me some answers!"

"You were in another one of your snits." Dean had to sit down, yeah, he was feeling better, but was still somewhat weak and dizzy, especially when he was upright longer than a few minutes. "We split, you for whatever reason, wanted to go the library at that Yellow Brick School…."

"Yellowstone College." Sam interjected, missing Dean's small smile of gloating triumph. If Sam was able to correct him, he was more in control than Dean had thought. That was a good sign, a damn good sign. "And it wasn't the library. It was a visiting collection of ancient Biblical readings and manuscripts."

"Whatever, point is, you'll remember I had no interest in going…."

"You were supposed to be lying low and taking it easy after that job went south….."

"Yeah, well, see, I was reading the paper and….what? I do read you know." he pouted defensively. "Okay, fine, I was bored Sam….."

"Alone and bored are not acceptable reasons to take off by yourself while injured!" Sam growled. He conveniently ignored the fact he had, on more than one occasion, taken off and left his brother on his own. "I left you the lap top….oh…..you researched further, didn't you?"

"Yup, drove out here to investigate, met Suzie here, spent the weekend, finished the job, like I said, a simple salt and burn."

"You were supposed to stay at the motel. I ordered cable for you that weekend." Sam glared. "You lied to me, snuck off, did a job on your own and never told me about it."

"Well, if you insist on looking at it that way…..yeah."

"Who are they and what did they want?" Sam would address that issue later, when Dean was feeling better and capable of fighting back. He'd be needing both hands, because Sam was going to thoroughly trounce his brothers ass.

Sneaking off without calling Sam or Bobby for back-up to do a job when he was supposedly tucked up safe in a motel room recuperating from yet another blow to the head and a dislocated shoulder was not going to be hand-waved away.

"I don't know who they are."

"Were they human?"

"Far as I could tell, yeah….."

"They drove the Sheriff off the road and took you from the car; I get that, but why?" Sam pushed. "They had you for what, three hours? You fought those cuffs Dean, don't deny it, why? What did they do?"

"You know what they did."

"Yeah, fucking dragged you…..how did you get away?"

"The pipe they cuffed my hands over finally broke."

"So, they hung you by your hands." Dean didn't like the look that crossed Sam's face. "Before or after dragging you?"

"Look, I'm ok….let's….." Dean tried lamely. "Sam…come on."

"Before or after." his voice held an edge, had deepened with emotion, nostrils flaring. Grabbing his brother for one reason or another was one thing, hurting him to the point it bordered on torture was quite another. "Before or after?!"

Dean rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "After." maybe he should cut this conversation short and go lay down. He hated to resort to manipulation to control his brother, but the truth was he wasn't feeling so good.

His mind wandered, something he should never let happen when Sam was on the verge of a full-blown snit fit. He was getting hot flashes, felt flushed and had moments of sudden sweating, wondered if this was what women going through menopause felt like, it if was, they had his sympathy because it sucked, big time.

Sam sucked his breath in, momentarily stunned, sickened by the mental image of Dean hanging from hands that had been torn apart…the pain that had to have caused. He gave himself a shake; he'd seen the result himself hadn't he? And Sam hadn't been there to help him, he'd had to fight through the pain and free himself and …what the hell was he doing?

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam demanded. "Are you fanning yourself?"

Dean flushed guiltily and dropped the Cosmo magazine he didn't even know he'd been waving about.

"Mrs. Simpkins owns the house the, uh, ghost had haunted." Suzie spoke up. "She wasn't overly happy when Dean put it to rest. Apparently, it never harmed her and she enjoyed its company. However, it wasn't as friendly to the hunter or lost hiker that strayed across any part of her property."

"You think she hired these three thugs to find Dean?"

"No." Suzie shook her head. "They came to town looking for him, I'm sure they went to the police, they would have been directed to county lock up and once there, they would have met Mrs. Simpkins. She would have known right away Dean was the same person who torched her ghost."

"And yet the Sheriff was taking him to lock him up where he was easily accessible?"

"Sheriff Dobbin is a good guy Sam, just a little slow to accept what he can't understand. He acknowledges there was a problem, Dean solved it but he wouldn't connect Mrs. Simpkins to anything evil or wrong nor would he ever believe for a moment, unless it was pointed out to him, she would mean Dean harm by telling three people looking for him where to find him." Suzie was looking at Dean. "You ok?"

"In all the time they were here, asking questions, did they ever ask about me?" Sam's attention was on Suzie, not Dean.

No." Suzie said, giving him an odd look then returning her attention to Dean. Sam had ended up giving Dean pain meds over the last couple days. Dean hadn't asked for them but neither had he refused them when Sam offered them.

Looking at him now, she had to admit, Sam hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said Dean didn't take well to antibiotics and mixing them with pain meds was not a good idea.

"And still you come here." he railed at Dean. Anger beginning to build, he failed to notice what Suzie was seeing. "Alone." he paused. "Without me, without Bobby…without letting us know…."

"Sam, if they knew who I was, then they knew about you." he licked at his lips. The feeling of all over warmth was overwhelming and not subsiding. Fucking antibiotics and Sam's stubborn insistence that he take them.

"Yeah, and since they didn't ask where I was, they must assume I'm still dead. Question is, how would they even know that?"

"Hum, still dead?" Suzie repeated. "As in, you were, you know, dead and buried, and now you aren't? That kind of dead?"

"You sure you didn't know them?" Sam ignored her, so focused on his desire and need to get answers he didn't realize Dean was fading. "Recognize them? They didn't say or ask anything that gave them away?"

"No." he wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, letting his forehead rest in the crook of his arm. "They, uh, knew you were alive."

"Were they hunters?"

"I don't think so." he muffled out weakly. Pain meds were ok as long as they weren't taken with antibiotics.

"Dammit Dean, how many people know who you are but don't know about me? Know I'm alive anyway. Damn few, I'd say."

"Maybe, depends." Dean hedged, bringing his head up.

"Then why would they want you? What did they want from you? They had you for three hours, they tried to get you to tell them something…..I get that Suzie didn't want you in county lock up because she felt Mrs. Simpkins would give you up and allow those men at you, well, guess what, it happened anyway…..ok, so yeah, least out on their turf, you had the opportunity to get away from them, had you been in a cell, well…guessing they would have sprung you from there, but none of this makes any sense."

"Sam, you need to let this go…" he said tiredly. "At least, for now."

"So you're ok with three men hunting you down, having followed your trail and you wouldn't know that if Suzie hadn't called you. Course, never thought you'd be so stupid to come here on your own, but whatever. All I'm getting here is you don't care what they did to you!"

"Yeah Sam, I care, but despite what you think, I'm not stupid, neither of us is fit to go after them. You lost it with me, I don't dare let you go after them alone and I can't help you, not yet. Yeah, maybe you can live with the guilt of me coming after you with these hands but I can't handle watching you do it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Means we need to just let it go until you have your head on straight and my hands have healed. We can go to Bobby's and do research. I know what they look like, we can start there, maybe they are hunters, or one of them is, maybe Bobby will recognize them. We can go back over….."

"I never intended for you to come after me, big boy here Dean!"

"You know damn well I would."

"I don't need you to hold my hand…"

"Yeah, I didn't ask you to hold mine and look where the hell we are! I…..dammit Sam, you're not….you're not well! You're irrational and angry and out of control. Sam, come on, you know I can't let you go after them by yourself."

"You going after them with me or after me if I leave you behind is stupid. You're risking permanent damage to your hands Dean."

"Sam…..give me time, that's all I'm asking for. I'm not telling you we won't go after them or that I won't let you, I'm just saying you need to be…in control and I need my hands, that's all."

"I'm in control."

"Oh, like hell you are!" Dean flared then groaned when his head protested the spurt of energy. "Admit it, you know you lost it, yeah, I'm hale and hearty but this…" his thrust his hands in Sam's direction. "Blew you up, you can't do that to someone else. You would never hurt me, never, but you won't be able to control yourself with someone else."

"Sam." Suzie shook her head. "He's had enough."

"Fine." hands braced against the counter, back to Dean, he lowered his head as he surrendered. He would put his brother first, would listen to him for now. "I'll let it go - for now - if you tell me what they wanted. You tell me that and I'll take you and we'll go wherever you want."

"Not good enough."

"Dean…I can't do this, I can't. Not being able to reach you, finding out you left me, having to follow you by GPS, tracking your trail in this town, interacting with these screwball citizens, knowing someone took you, not being here to help, seeing what they did to you, putting you through what I did, everyone was so happy to tell me what they thought about you, told me to bring you back around, said they wished you'd stayed…"

"Let it go." Dean said quietly. "Please? Sammy, come on, let it go."

"Tell me what they wanted."

Dean accepted a glass of water from Suzie. His hand shook when he reached for the glass and she frowned. He shrugged, giving her a tired smirk.

"You need to hold it together." Dean sighed. "I don't know who they are. If they're hunters, I don't know them, Bobby might. They knew where you'd been, knew you were back but didn't appear to know you hadn't come back as you. They thought we were hunting separately, that you were still with Samuel."

"They told you this?"

"I ain't deaf Sam."

"They talked freely in front of you? Yeah, right."

"People tend to do that when they think someone has passed out from pain."

"They thought you unconscious?" he drew himself up, ready to explode once again.

"Not the point here Sam. They've been looking for me….."

"And you just deliver yourself to them."

Dean shot him an icy glare that failed miserably, what with his puffy eyes and flushed cheeks and sweat soaked hair.

"Anyway, they thought me alone and Bobby too far away to be a threat, though they did think he would come after me once he found me missing."

"They thought right." Sam managed to focus. "What do they want?"

Dean studied his brother. Tried to judge his state of mind and determine just how much of the truth he could handle hearing and what he would do upon hearing it and not be able to do anything about it.

"Jesus….Dean? What?" Sam knew his brother knew more than he was saying, knew him well enough to read his face and know he was trying to make a decision. "Tell me."

Dean squirmed. "AAh-um, look, I need you to do something for me. Promise me, I need you to promise me, you will listen to me and try to chill, ok?"

"WHAT-DO-THEY-WANT?" Sam yelled, causing Suzie to flinch but Dean stared him down. "I told you I would let it go – for now - if you would just tell me what they were after!"

"You." Dean sighed. "Ok, you! They were after you."

"ME? What the fuck….?"

Dean held a hand up, signaling for a moment. "Hold it together Sam, they've been looking for me to try to get to you. Apparently your alter-self did something. I don't know what, they wouldn't say, but you have something they want."

"I have something…..? From when? Jesus Dean, I don't remember what I did that year! What little bit has come back in flashes of memory scares the shit outta me! Hell, I cudda done anything!"

"I know, and anyone we could have gone to for answers are no longer with us." Dean nodded. "They thought they could get to you through me."

"How?"

"We'll find out."

Sam turned to stare out the window, struggling to get a grip on the reality that was here and now. He'd either done something or had something that his brother had suffered for. He couldn't remember everything he'd done the year he'd been without his soul, without Dean, and he'd probably never know all the sins and atrocities he'd committed.

Now, he and Dean would have to find the time to confront these men, find out what they wanted, retrace his steps, discover what he'd done and find a solution. Another fine mess he'd created that Dean would clean up.

Sam nodded. "Fine." he pushed away from the counter and rounded the table where he grabbed his brother by the elbow and hauled him out of the chair. "We'll do this your way." he'd put his brother through enough shit and ending the world once was enough, he wasn't going to make the mistake of disregarding Dean's instincts a second time.

"HEY!" Dean protested, unable to stop himself from being manhandled, he fell over the chair. "OW! Ow, ouch, what are you…aarrgh."

"You're going back to bed, soon as you're off the antibiotics, we're going to Bobby's to figure this whole mess out." he gave Dean a moment to gain his balance. "Next time someone finds you, they damn well better keep you until I get there to retrieve your ass." he flicked his fingers against his brother's ear. "And, oh yeah, we're gonna have a talk once you're up to it about you taking off on your own."

"Something tells me not many words are gonna be spoken." Dean rubbed his abused ear and stumbled, catching himself by falling against Sam for support. He braced himself expecting to be hip-bumped away. "Sammy runs away and oh, ok, but lemme do it and Sammy has a hard-on about being ditched, something not right about that." he mumbled, accepting the one-armed hug from Sam. "Not fair."

"What are you saying?"

"Nuthin'."

"Do we agree Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, rubbing his forehead along Sam's sleeve. "Sure."

"Dude, are you like, wiping your sweat on my shirt?" more like nuzzling but Sam wasn't going to call him on it.

"What? No." he crawled onto the bed and laid down, pulling the blankets up to his shoulder. "So, you found me, you gonna keep me?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. It was times like this when he felt the universe was out to get him. They were cursed, nothing ever went their way, they never had a run of good luck, and there was never happiness at the end of their quest.

He looked down as Dean rubbed wearily at his eyes. Okay, maybe 'never' was a little harsh. Yeah, trouble always seemed to find them and they had more pain and discomfort and anguish than any mere human should have to deal with, yet….they still had each other, despite lies, cheating, manipulation, loss and death, despite everything, the trust between them wasn't broken. It'd been stretched, twisted, melted and bent but remained intact. No one and nothing had ever been able to completely sever it.

It was just...there were times, that maybe, just maybe, someone, somewhere was doing whatever they could to help the brothers along. Giving them aid: when he'd needed to chase after Dean and had walked out of his motel room to find an unattended car with the keys in the ignition, just waiting to be stolen, the times a doctor was able to supply them with medical supplies or a police officer turned a blind eye to their activities or Dean won big hustling pool, or like now, when they'd found safety and comfort with Suzie; little things like that led him to believe perhaps they weren't as alone as they thought.

Shaking his head, he came out of his musings to find that Dean had fallen asleep. He was pale and flushed and sweating but he was quiet and sleeping on his own. Sam knew that Dean willingly going to sleep meant he had faith and trust in Sam to keep his word and he would. Come morning he'd check his wrists and figured in another day or so, they could leave.

"I'll always find you and I'll always keep you." Sam whispered to his sleeping sibling. "No need for you to worry about that."

***END***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft! For anyone who cares, yes, I will continue this plot/theme in the next story. Kinda wanted to wrap it up as the chapters were getting numerous and I haven't had a lot of free time lately to update weekly. One of the ladies at work has been out with pneumonia and I've been working full-time until she returns, which means, work has gotten into the way of my leisure time.


End file.
